


Every Life Begins With You

by leonhart_17, Ressick



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-04 20:38:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 50
Words: 101,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5347781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leonhart_17/pseuds/leonhart_17, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ressick/pseuds/Ressick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death cannot stop true love - all it can do is delay it for a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - May 22, 1783 - Paris, France

**Author's Note:**

> This wouldn't be anything like what it has become without my friend and co-author. I love you, fucker. Thank you so much for building this world with me. I can only hope you're having half as much fun as I am. -- L  
> It is an honor and a privilege to be playing in this world we’ve created together. I love you too, fucker. Thank you thank you thank you for letting me join in on the fun. -- R

It was a peculiar thing, having lifetimes of knowledge and experience while the world only saw an eighteen year old girl. That was Carmilla Karnstein's life though. Or would that be afterlife? She was a vampire, after all. Other people got to have their lives and whatever came after while she was perpetually a teenager who'd seen things that people who only knew their small human lives couldn't imagine.

When your vampire mother was the leader of an old and mysterious cult, creepy and strange was par for the course, however.

Carmilla's part in her mother's plans had always been simple – lure in the young and more or less willing to the sacrifice. Not that being sacrificed was what they're signing up for, obviously. She was what they wanted, not whatever was at the bottom of that hole in Styria.

The cycle required only a few months every twenty years, but it only took a short century before being her mother's honeypot was dull, boring. If she had to live this life forever then being bored was too much to ask from Carmilla Karnstein.

Subverting the game was more fun, leading people in only to get them away again, driving people off before they were anywhere close to won. Doing it subtly was an art that she'd had to learn lest she bring her mother's wrath down on herself. She'd tried running once before but her mother was old and her reach and network were vast.

Carmilla's leash wasn't always pulled tight in decades without a sacrifice and she was allowed to wander Europe and Asia as long as she returned to Styria when ordered. Russia was her favorite with its long winters and nightlife. Summers she would float between Madrid and Paris, London if she was having a bad year.

In the spring of 1783 she'd been having a perfectly fine year. America was at war with England, with France supporting the Revolution, but even the events that shaped history had little effect on a young woman's prospects for an evening in the City of Lights. Champagne had been flowing for hours before the streetlamps were lit. The entire building could almost be felt tilting and pitching to the music of the strings that seemed to fill the space.

Carmilla's dress was tight at the bodice but she didn't need to breathe. She could still drink and that was all that mattered. Men and women both had been approaching her all evening, keeping her glass topped off perfectly the whole night. Scanning the crowd for the possibility of a drink of another sort, her eyes caught on a diminutive woman, scarcely a girl, really, whose gaze was pointed and glaring. Directly at her, it seemed after a swift glance to either side.

Draining her glass deliberately, Carmilla set it aside before crossing the crowded room. “What's your problem?” she asked bluntly in French.

Her answer was a squint as her companion puzzled out the meaning of her question. “You, madame, have no respect,” she answered in lightly accented English, her tone hot with her righteous anger. Carmilla couldn't fight the smirk that crossed her lips. It only seemed to incense her all the more, the stranger stepping forward and drawing herself up on her toes in an attempt to loom.

“Whatever do you mean?” asked Carmilla, switching languages without missing a beat, patience fabricated to draw another rise from her combative guest.

“I've seen you in here tonight, acting as if you can simply have anyone you wish.” The words were nearly spit from between clenched teeth and Carmilla had to bite her lip to keep her smile from widening to show her own sharp incisors.

As a matter of fact, she did happen to own the house they were all in. As well, more than half of the revelers in attendance knew precisely who and what their host was and wouldn't hesitate to go upstairs with her for whichever reason she desired – sex or the feed. She need simply twitch a finger.

“I'm sorry, you are?” inquired Carmilla politely, which only made the other girl twitch with her contained frustration.

“Lianna,” she finally said after a deep breath. “Lianna Haas.” On instinct she put her right hand forward and Carmilla's eyebrow rose.

Taking a half step back, Carmilla bowed gracefully as she took Lianna's hand. She deliberately looked up through her lashes to meet her eyes before her lips brushed the soft skin of the back of her hand in a soft kiss. “Charmed,” she murmured as she straightened again. The sentiment was entirely genuine.

Lianna brushed past her with a breathy puff when no explanation or apology for her behavior was offered, Carmilla turning to watch her go.

She was still watching her when her bite buried itself in an alabaster neck, watching Lianna's tongue wet her lips before she recognized her own reaction and disappeared into the night in a huff.


	2. August 18, 1814 - Styria, Austria

Decades passed as they always did and Carmilla very nearly forgot about that night in Paris.  Mother called her back to Styria for the next sacrifice.  Newest brother Edmund's catch was a pair of boys that he sent giddily into the snare.  Carmilla met Ell.

Saving the marks had never been about a feeling more complicated than dicking with her mother's plans.  Until then.  Ell was innocent, witty, smart, beautiful.  As taken with Carmilla as Carmilla was with her.  Fully unaware that her dark love was an immortal creature of the night sent to lure her to her death.

Ell didn't question Carmilla's surviving the 'accident' that had conspired to bring them together, was nothing more than grateful when her new friend's 'recovery' was swift.  She didn't mind that Carmilla preferred to stay indoors during the day.  She herself was fond of walking through the gardens after dark, didn't fear whatever may lurk in the shadows.  She saw no subterfuge in Carmilla's disappearances from the house, only rejoicing in their reunions.

After two days missing (this time) Ell only smiled when Carmilla's gentle knock drew her attention from her book.  “Can we walk?”

Ell was already on her feet.  “Of course,” she answered eagerly, reaching for her hand.  Carmilla tucked the hand through her arm gallantly but reached across with the other to sandwich the warm, slender hand between her own cool touch.

“You've been well?” she checked once they were outside, taking a bracing but unnecessary breath of the crisp night air.

Ell seemed almost to hop, hugging Carmilla's arm and leaning into her side.  “Oh yes.  We've had a new tutor come and she's simply the best, darling!  I have been talking of you to her for days and she cannot wait to meet you!  She's so knowledgeable and wise and I could listen to her speak for hours and it feels like just a moment.”

It was so unlike her own dour realism, Ell's positivity, her energy.  It was part of what made her so attractive.  “Good.” Carmilla murmured, distracted.  “That's good.”

Ell pulled them to a stop on the curve in the path and faced her, smiling and so pleased to see her.  “Are you well?  You haven't taken ill again?”

Carmilla's smile was small but she nodded.  “Don't worry.”  To distract from further conversation, as well as the niggling distractions in her own mind of trying to find a way clear of her mother and Styria for herself and Ell, Carmilla leaned forward to catch her lips.

The needy whine against her mouth made Carmilla's knees go weak, her arms winding around narrow hips to tug her as close as their layers of skirts would allow.

The time away, as well as the tempting idea of leaving her mother's web forever, had Carmilla more affectionate than prudent as she guided Ell off the path with her, the pair still joined at the lips.

There was a clearing they'd found useful for privacy, on the property but secluded.  By far Carmilla's favorite feature was the tree that had been struck by lightning and fallen before its roots had taken hold again and kept it alive.  Now it arched just above the ground and provided a perfect bench for any young lovers who happened to come along.

They found their seats easily enough, Carmilla's supernatural senses keeping her from stumbling.  Once she was on the tree then Ell was across her lap, close enough beside her that they need not disengage, but allowing her legs and cumbersome skirts to not impede access to each other.

Lust and blood both fogged Carmilla's mind in similar ways, making her pleasantly lost in sensation.  Ell's lust and blood, tangible and audibly moving beneath her skin, were a beat hammering through her skull.  Warm skin and pounding pulse combined to draw Carmilla even further from reality, her entire world wrapped up in the girl in her arms.

The scent of blood, real and not imagined, made her nostrils flare beyond the unnecessary breaths she drew.  Moving her mouth along Ell's neck she inhaled deliberately.  It was a mistake.

Lust and bloodlust were a close enough thing at any given time and the unexpected smell of fresh blood, of Ell's blood, made Carmilla lose her mind.

It only lasted a second but that was all it took, Ell jerking away from the sharp, sudden pain in her neck.  She rose to her feet in a rush, a hand covering the two thin lines of blood now seeping from her.  “What are you doing?!”

Unable to help herself, Carmilla licked her lips to catch every last drop of spilled blood.  “I – I'm sorry,” she stammered, wiping her mouth with her hand.  “Are you alright?”  She moved forward to check the damage only for Ell to recoil in fear.  “I'm sorry,” she repeated herself.  “If you'll -”

“She was right about you.”  The realization and subsequent horror were clear in Ell's tone.  She drew back again when Carmilla moved and the vampire froze, her hands to either side.

“Ell, I don't know what anyone told you...”

“It was the madame – she said you were a monster, but of course I didn't believe her.”  Her chest heaved as she breathed hard.  Carmilla held her own breath.  “She said that you would reveal yourself.”

Suspicion, icy and terrible, washed down her spine.  “Did she take your blood?  Did you give her any blood?” she asked desperately, cutting across whatever other accusations Ell might throw next.  However she'd come to know it, the truth was coming out.

Ell's stare was as distant as Carmilla had ever seen her.  “You're the one who tried to take my blood.”

Stepping forward with startling speed, Carmilla took her arms in a tight grip.  “Tell me,” she said through gritted teeth.  “Did you bleed at all?  An accident, anything?”  The blood she'd smelled had been Ell's but the girl hadn't been bleeding before her own teeth had sunk in.  Carmilla knew precisely who the recently arrived tutor was without hearing anything more about her.

Ell recoiled from the sudden lunge, pulling back against the hold her paramour had on her arms, groaning and struggling until Carmilla recognized her mistake and let her go.  Freed, her resistance worked against her, sending Ell to the grassy forest floor.  She scrambled backwards on her hands and feet when Carmilla stepped forward to try and help her up.  “Get away from me!”

“You don't know who she is,” Carmilla tried to explain, following her without trying to touch her again.  “Please -”

They burst out of the trees and back onto the moonlit path to find themselves no longer alone.  Carmilla's expression dropped, freezing as she met her mother's smirk.  It took everything she had not to lunge forward and rip her throat out.

Ell had spotted her new mentor-become-savior though, and threw herself into the older woman's arms with a sob.  “You were right, madame!  Right about everything!”

“Ell -” Carmilla tried again, quiet desperation in every stiff line of her body.

“There, there,” murmured Lilita Morgan, stroking gentle fingers through honey colored hair.  “I'm here now.  Nothing bad will happen to you now.”

Carmilla's deep-throated growl was the wrong reaction.  Ell curled more deeply into her elder, whimpering.  “Please,” Carmilla pleaded, taking a step forward.

Maman turned to shield Ell with her body, the grin of wicked delight she sent her daughter not hidden or shadowed.  “Now, now, I don't believe you're welcome here any further, Miss Karnstein.  The young miss has made herself very clear.”

“I'll kill you.  If you touch her, I'll kill you,” Carmilla promised, not blinking.

It won her a cruel laugh.  “I'd like to see you try, darling,” taunted her sire.  One hand reached for the side of Ell's head.  Carmilla felt every muscle in her body tighten in fear.  Maman's hand only stroked through soft hair gently.  “I've got you, dear,” she murmured to Ell, arm wrapped over her shoulders as she lead her away.

There was no sign of either Ell or her own mother on the grounds but the scent of blood was everywhere as soon as Carmilla pushed the doors opened.  Bodies littered the floor, making it impossible to open the door fully without disturbing the tall young woman who'd worked in the stables.  Auburn haired and orphaned, she'd lived in the village but had spent most of her time on the grounds working or hunting.  Only a few paces down the rug, the bloodstain would have horrified the housekeeper whose gaping neck had issued the bloody splatter.  At her side was her partner, blue eyes staring unseeing at the still vampire.

Shaking it off, Carmilla moved forward.  She had to know what other horrors her mother had waiting for her.  If the next room would show her everything she'd never wanted to see of what Ell's intestines looked like after being torn out.  The door creaked when she pushed open the library's door, following the scent of blood.  It was mixed with the rest of the death scattered throughout the house, masking the identity of whoever she was going to find on the other side.

Him not being part of her mother's plan, Carmilla hadn't held any great affection for Ell's father but she grimaced at the sight of his grotesquely mangled body.  This wasn't simply a feed, but a message.

It was received, Carmilla's heart sinking in her chest.  She'd never been free of her mother's strings, possibly never would be.  Ell certainly wouldn't be if she couldn't find her, and soon.  If she couldn't track them down her only prayer was that Ell wouldn't survive the night.  The thought of anything else destroyed her.

The bloody corpse was as successful a distraction as it was a clear message.  The fresh blood was everywhere, masking the scent of anything else, anyone else.  Trying to calm herself, Carmilla forced herself to take a moment, think it through.  Maman wouldn't want to ruin her dubious credibility with her victim with the vision of her father torn apart.  So they likely weren't coming back to the house.  This bloody mess had been meant solely for Carmilla herself.

Unfortunately, she had nowhere else to search for a clue to where Ell might be.  Her mother's movements had always been part of her secrets.  Carmilla had her own contacts but the chances that any of them would flip on her mother were infinitesimal.

It felt hopeless, which is exactly how her mother wanted it to feel.  It was why she'd taken Ell in the first place.  She could have nearly anyone for her sacrifice but she'd taken Ell as a warning.  All of her steps out of line had been tolerated in the past.  This wouldn't be.

Frustrated, she sped away from the massacre left in her name, hoping to catch a scent once she was clear of the house and grounds.  Maman was old, though, and smart, after a millennium of perfecting her craft.  What traces she managed to find stayed close to water, muddling her ability to track them.

Sunrise signaled defeat, though Carmilla had covered a few dozen square miles.  Wherever Maman had taken Ell was beyond her power to find.  Retreating to the safety of the ruined manor house, she escaped the light that had finally made even the thick trees of the forest too dangerous to search.

She wasn't alone in the house, Lilita reclining on one of the couches and obscenely licking blood from her fingers.

It wasn't Ell's blood.

“What did you do to her?” asked Carmilla, defeated.  She knew her parent too well to hope.

“If you behave maybe I'll tell you in a century or so,” bargained her mother, inspecting her nails critically as she finished her snack.  Finally looking up, she tutted at the frozen dismay and heartbreak on Carmilla's face.  “Now, now, my darling, she was never going to accept you for what you are.”  She rose without a sound and gentle fingers lifted Carmilla's chin.  “You're perfection, my little monster.”

Nearly vibrating with the effort of not moving, Carmilla jerked her jaw out of her mother's grip.  The growl rumbled up beyond her control.  The big cat she kept tightly leashed between her ribs slipped its tether and Maman had to jerk her hand back lest she find her fingers between Carmilla's sharply gnashing teeth.

Moving with speed like a whip, the hand struck her broad across the face, the other around her throat.  Minimal effort lifted her from her feet and the twisted affection was gone from her mother's tone.  “You will learn respect or you will be broken.”  Her smile turned Carmilla's stomach.  “I would hate to have to do it, you understand.”  But it would be done went unsaid, not unheard.

Both of her own hands had gone instinctively to try and free her throat, to no effect.  Carmilla took a small bit of pleasure in digging her nails into her mother's wrists and tearing, but was rebuked for her petty rebellion by being flipped in an arch to slam into the ground, Maman's knee in her chest and the grip at her throat solid and unrelenting.

“I do so hate it when you insist on being difficult,” said the elder vampire, shaking her head as if she were genuinely regretful.

Her grip tightened so much that Carmilla's last thought was that perhaps her mother would actually take her head off this time.


	3. May 21, 1861 – Salem, Massachusetts

 LaFontaine hummed softly as they strolled faux-casually through the dark streets of Salem, carrying everything they owned in a plain carpetbag.  It was still an hour before dawn and they had plans for the day.  Big plans.  If everything fell into place, and that was a big if.  Light was beginning its creep over the horizon when they reached the Common.  Crossing it, they made for the edge closest to the corner of Pleasant and Briggs.  Under a tree sat a young woman on a small, battered trunk, a handbag in her lap.

 When she heard LaFontaine’s approach, she glanced up, fearful, until she caught sight of who was coming towards her, when her fear turned into a wide, fond smile.  “You made it,” she said, breathing a heavy sigh.

 “So did you.  I told you I could come help you with your things,” they replied, moving close enough for a warm embrace.  She practically fell into their arms, relieved.

 “No, no, I don’t want you close to _their_ house,” she spat out, anger tensing her shoulders before they rubbed a circle on her back and she relaxed.  “Besides, I grabbed a few extra things on my way out.”  She laughed, the sound choking and bitter.

 “Lila,” LaFontaine started.

 “No, no, it’s fine.  It was the money for my train ticket to Brooklyn.  A few odds and ends.”  She huffed, and then looked at her companion’s bag.  “Do you have everything?”

 They smiled.  “Yes.”  Not having much was something LaFontaine was used to.  The youngest child of twelve in a Quebecois family that had settled in upstate New York meant a childhood full of hand-me-down dresses.  When they left home at sixteen in their brother’s clothes, it had started a life of absolute minimalism.  Working manual labor didn’t bring in a lot of money, and it was smartest to “splurge” on a private room in the boarding houses.  A small wallet in the depths of their carpetbag held the modest savings they’d amassed over the past seven years.  Lila clucked her tongue and reached for her trunk.

 “No, no, I’ll carry that,” LaFontaine said, moving to pick it up.  It wasn’t terribly heavy, and easy to manage with their carpetbag.  “We have to get to the station soon.  The train leaving for Springfield…” they trailed off.  “We’re really doing this?” they questioned, a tiny grin on their lips.

 Lila smiled.  “We’re really doing this.”  She took LaFontaine’s proffered elbow and they headed off together.

 Getting on the train an hour later was stressful.  They both kept waiting for the shouts from Lila’s family, who must have noticed her gone as the sun burst over the horizon.  When the train pulled away from the station they both breathed out in relief, Lila leaning into LaFontaine.  They rode in silence for the most part, letting the state pass them by as the train made its stops, sharing a modest lunch that Lila had packed and sipping from LaFontaine’s canteen.  It was mid-afternoon before they got off in Springfield.  And it was a further three hours before they found a free room in a nearby boarding house.

 The room was small, containing a double bed, a chair, a small table with candle, pitcher and wash basin, and just enough room to step around the furniture.  But it was fairly clean, and the smells from the kitchen were savory enough.  Closing the door behind them, LaFontaine set the trunk down carefully in the one free corner.  They took their carpetbag from Lila, setting it on top of the trunk, and carefully guided her to sit on the chair.

 LaFontaine sat down on the edge of the bed and watched their companion.  They’d known her for over a year, had planned for this very moment for the past six months, when the pressure on Lila from her family – to get married to a respectable young man and to stop associating with that penniless French boy – had started to wear on her, culminating in the hushed discussion she’d overheard a month previous to send her to family in Brooklyn which had pushed forward their date of escape.  A year of their life, and it felt like they’d known Lila forever.  But this quiet girl, her thoughts obviously racing through her mind but her voice silent, this girl was unfamiliar to them.

 “Lila?”

 “We should go to the clerk first thing tomorrow, so they can post the notice for us,” she muttered.

 “We will.”

 “And then in two weeks…” she trailed off, her head bowed.

 They felt their stomach drop.  “In two weeks, if you still want me, we’ll get married,” LaFontaine finished for her.  “If not,” they swallowed, hard, and forced their voice not to tremble at the very idea, “I’ll put you on a train back to Salem.”

 She wrung her hands, staring at the finger where a wedding band would sit in two weeks’ time.  “I want you,” she whispered, voice incredibly soft, but sure.  “I want to marry you,” she continued, a little louder.  “I just… I’ve never gone further than Boston before today.  You’ve been to a different _country_.  Traveled alone.  And nothing about this… about us… is normal.”

 LaFontaine’s smile was soft, and kind.  They scooted closer to Lila, and took her left hand in their own.  It was a sensation that thrilled them – to be able to touch her without worrying who would see them together.  It was the very first time they were in a room alone.  “No, it’s not.  We’re not.  But that doesn’t make it – us – any less wonderful.  And I’ve traveled a bit, yes, but never met anyone like you.  Never loved anyone like you.”

 Lila raised her head, meeting LaFontaine’s eyes.  “Darling.”  She reached out and cupped their cheek, blue eyes meeting as she felt herself blush.  Even then, she leaned forward.  LaFontaine gave her all control of this moment.  As their lips met, both closed their eyes.  The contact was chaste, soft.  But it was more than enough.  They’d fled Salem together.  Planned to marry.  Had dreams they shared and knew all the other’s secrets.  And yet, until that moment, had never kissed.  Had limited their contact out of respect for one another, never wanting to push.  As often as each felt like they’d climbed into the other’s mind and heart, made a home there, both had agreed that intimacy of their bodies was something they only wanted to experience when they were free of Salem and all the pressures there.

 In Springfield, no one knew them.  The Frenchman (who was not a boy, nor a girl either) and the Jewish woman could introduce themselves as a married couple to their landlady and no one was the wiser that it wasn’t true.  Yet.  In Springfield, they could be anyone they wanted to be.  Together.

 Lila pulled back from the kiss, her cheeks bright red and eyes wide.  She smiled, stroking the soft cheek under her hand until LaFontaine opened their eyes with a bashful grin.  “I am so happy that I’m to be your wife,” she whispered, pressing a quick kiss to their cheek.  A delicious shiver of anticipation ran through both of them at the thought.  

 A nearby church bell rang out to specify the hour, and there was a scuffling throughout the boardinghouse as it marked suppertime.  They sprang apart, both of them rising to stand, exchanging self-conscious glances.  The timidity remained throughout dinner, as they took note of the various other inhabitants of the boardinghouse, a mix of individuals, couples, and families.  They kept to themselves as much as possible, and returned after eating to their room.

 Lila sat on the edge of the bed this time, and LaFontaine lowered themselves into the chair.  Puttering, Lila opened her trunk and bag, and began organizing their possessions, taking control of LaFontaine’s carpetbag as well.  They watched her, amused, as she refolded their spare clothes, arranged their toiletries and shaving kit, rolled her eyes at the deck of cards, carefully set aside their rosary beads on the table, and stacked the three books they owned – _The Secret of the Rosary_ (in French), _Leaves of Grass_ , and a _McGuffey Eclectic Reader_.

 When all of their things were sorted, she started on her own, refolding her garments, pulling out the few bits and pieces she’d brought with her – a few books, sewing and knitting supplies, a small mirror, toiletries, a small writing kit, etc – and arranging everything neatly, their possessions mingled together.  When that was done, her hands fluttered, unsure of what to do next.

 It was almost sunset, the long rays of spring light creeping across the floor.  In LaFontaine’s eyes, Lila had never looked more beautiful than she did bathed in that glow, free of the fear she’d carried lately, as her parents had argued over what to do with her.  They smiled, picking up Lila’s brush and gesturing that she should face away from them.  Settling behind them on the bed, LaFontaine carefully took her hair out of its bun – removing the comb that secured it, the hairpins, all set aside on the table before they ran their fingers through her hair with the utmost care.  When the dark red locks cascaded down Lila’s back, LaFontaine started brushing it, each stroke gentle and patient as knots were untangled.

 “When I was about twelve?  Yes, twelve, my nieces – my oldest brother’s daughters – came to live with us for awhile.  They were very small, and my mother put me in charge of them.  I had to make sure they were clean, and dressed, and did their chores.  Their mother was bedridden after childbirth and they missed her, so it was hard to make sure they behaved.  But every night, I’d fix their hair.  I’d brush it and braid it and tuck them into bed with me, telling them the stories my sisters used to tell me when I was their age.”

 They lapsed into silence, Lila’s shoulders loosening as LaFontaine’s steady movement soothed her.  All the tangles were soon gone, and they kept brushing her hair until it shone like the last dark rays of sunlight coming from outside.  When the sun finally slipped below the horizon, LaFontaine set down the brush and moved to light the room’s single candle.  Stark shadows danced against the walls, and they sat back down, twisting Lila’s hair into a simple plait for the night.

 “I’ll sleep on the floor,” LaFontaine offered.  “And I can leave the room while you change.”

 Lila turned to meet their eyes, smiling softly.  “You face that corner to change, and I’ll face this, and…”  She swallowed the lump in her throat that was a mix of nerves and anticipation.  “We’re getting married.  I trust you to share _our_ bed.”

 Within a few minutes, they were both in their pajamas and had washed up, their clothes folded neatly and their two pair of shoes set next to one another by the door.  Lila pulled back the blanket and climbed in, taking the side of the bed that was shoved against the wall.  LaFontaine followed, blowing out the single candle so only the near-full moon brightened the room.  They gulped slightly as they lay on their back and pulled the blanket up.

 Two sets of soft breathing were the only sounds in their room for a few long minutes, before Lila rolled onto her side.  She reached out her hand, settling it on LaFontaine’s chest, over their pounding heartbeat, before leaning closer and pressing her lips to theirs.  This kiss was less tentative than before, and much less chaste.  When their lips parted, their foreheads touched.  Lila smiled sweetly as LaFontaine let out a soft, happy laugh before opening their arms.  Lila grinned and laid her head down on their shoulder, snuggling close as their arms closed around her.

 “Good night, wife,” LaFontaine whispered.

 “Sweet dreams, darling.”

 “They always are.  I dream of you,” LaFontaine replied.

 Giggling, Lila admonished, “I’m already in your bed.  You don’t have to charm me with fibs.”

 LaFontaine shook their head, pulling Lila closer, two sets of feet tangling together under the blanket.  “Having you in my arms – that’s been my dream for so long.  The two of us, together, building a life.  I can’t imagine anything better.”

 Curling an arm around her bedmate’s torso, Lila sighed happily.  “Nor can I.”  

 To the sounds of an unfamiliar city’s night, they fell asleep within minutes. 


	4. November 20, 1864 - Springfield, Massachusetts

 Lila started her day just like she had every day of the past three years.  She opened her eyes and looked at the carefully framed ambrotype of herself and LaFontaine propped up beside her bed.  The portrait had been taken only a few hours after they wed, both of them fighting wide smiles as they tried to freeze for the multiple seconds the photographer insisted upon.  They’d succeeded, barely, and so preserved forever was the monochrome image of the pair of them – Lila in her best work dress, LaFontaine in their plain sack coat laid open over a plaid vest.  The photographer had posed them with Lila in a chair and LaFontaine standing behind, a hand on her shoulder.  It was solemn, the exact opposite of their mood at the time, and Lila smiled at the memory.

 Propped up next to the ambrotype was a tintype, sent via post from Virginia two years before.  LaFontaine and their friend Billy were posed together, stone-faced, with their rifles.  It was a fairly standard portrait – half the soldier’s wives she knew had one that was similar, sent from somewhere down south.  That picture of her spouse showed a thinner, more careworn, haunted version of the cheerful lover she’d seen march off at the beginning of the war. She’d noticed the change, of course, it being reflected in every letter they wrote her.  Those were stacked carefully, in order, in a box on her bedside table.  They had known each other for a bit over a year when they were wed.  Now, three years after that, they’d spent more time apart than anything else.  She was thankful that her love for her spouse didn’t ever waver. She missed them, of course, ached for them, but that was understandable. 

 Her quiet morning contemplation was cut short by a yawn from the trundle bed beside and below hers.  She turned, and greeted little Lidia Kirsch with a brittle smile. She’d known the toddler since Billy Kirsch’s wife had shown up to visit as part of a small social group of soldier’s wives that met regularly to knit and sew for the troops. Sarah Jane had found out she was pregnant after the unit left for the war, and LaFontaine’s next letter had included an amused description of Billy literally _bouncing_ around camp in joy as he announced to anyone who could hear – which might have included the Confederates given the volume reached – that he was going to be a father. 

 Lila had reached out to Sarah Jane.  She and Billy were from a small town in the Berkshires, and had moved to Springfield in search of work since Billy was the youngest son of a poor farmer.  So when Sarah Jane was horribly sick a few months into her pregnancy and missed enough work at the mill to lose her job, Lila invited her to move in for awhile. She’d watched the other woman’s belly grow, been the first to feel the kicks of the child inside. She had even been the one to deliver tiny screaming Lidia, when the doctor hadn’t arrived quickly enough. Her forearms covered in blood, she’d managed to soothe the newborn as the doctor finally arrived and struggled to save Sarah Jane’s life.  It had been close, and Sarah Jane was bedridden for months, barely able to nurse. And then, one day when Lidia had just turned one, she had taken a nap and never woken up.  Lidia had slept with her mother’s corpse that afternoon, been screaming by the time Lila came home.

 Writing that letter to Billy had been the hardest thing she’d ever done.  A few weeks later his reply arrived, begging her to keep caring for Lidia and sending every cent he had.  Over a year had passed since then, and Lila had raised her friend’s child since then. Mending, washing, and ironing for neighbors brought in a little money, and Billy sent every penny he could, as did LaFontaine.  Regular letters, in Billy’s unkempt scrawl, arrived for Lila to read to Lidia.

 Except the letters from Billy and LaFontaine had been delayed again, for the past two months, though no hint of why had been mentioned in the papers.  So she’d taken to re-reading the oldest to the little girl who called her Aunty. Every morning, they washed and dressed and Lila read a letter from Billy to his daughter. 

 Lila moved through their routine easily. She was an active, if obedient, child.  They ate breakfast together downstairs with the other boarders, and helped Missus Hughes with the washing up afterwards.  Lila had just started on a bit of mending for Mister Jones down the hall as Lidia played, when there was a knock on the door.

 Rising from her chair, Lila patted Lidia’s head before stepping around the child to answer.   Opening the door, she stopped in her tracks.

 “Hey,” came the soft greeting from LaFontaine. From her spouse. From her beloved. Lila gasped, a hand to her mouth as she reached out with the other, sure the soldier in battered, stained Union blues before her was an apparition.  LaFontaine’s uniform was barely fit for rags, but it was the crutch that they used to hold themselves up that truly was cause for alarm. Lila froze just as her fingers reached her spouse’s cheek.  LaFontaine’s skin was warm under her touch.  They were _real_. They were _there_.

 “Darling!”  The exclamation escaped her lips without thought as she threw her arms around them.  One arm snaked around her waist, holding her tight, as the other tried to rebalance with the crutch. Even the warmth, the utter feeling of home that was their embrace, couldn’t distract her from how LaFontaine was struggling to stay upright.  She pulled back, tears running down her face, and ushered LaFontaine into their room, relieving them of their tattered knapsack and haversack.

 She looked at the tiny room with fresh eyes, trying to remember all the little things she’d changed about it over the past three years. They’d paid extra for a private room, and despite its incredibly modest size, it was homey.  The bed was shoved into one corner, and in addition to the bedding provided by their landlady, Lila had splurged on a thick wool blanket, as well as a duvet stuffed with goose feathers.  A small bedside table held a candle, photographs, and the box with all of LaFontaine’s letters.  Sarah Jane had tacked a Currier & Ives lithograph to the wall, and Lila wrestled – with help from two of the neighbor boys – a small bureau into the room, upon which she’d put her trunk.  Clothesline hung above their heads, criss-crossing the room and available for use on washdays.  There was a second chair at the small table where her spouse sat, complete with a tablecloth.  Sewing supplies cluttered it at the moment, so she set her spouse’s bags on the end of the bed. And of course there was Lidia, staring wide-eyed at LaFontaine – a picture made real to her child’s mind.

 “Lidia, dear, why don’t you go ask Missus Hughes for tea? Let her know Mister Perry is back from the war, please?” Lila asked, scooting her ward out the door. She needed a private moment with her spouse, to ask about their limp and if they carried a letter from Billy with them.  She needed a moment to kiss them, and hold them close.  Ever so carefully, she knelt in front of LaFontaine and ran a hand over the leg that splayed out at an awkward angle.  They looked mildly sheepish, and she was sure the story behind the injury would be interesting, if horrifying. 

 But even her worry over her spouse couldn’t distract her from what she needed most.  “Tell me later,” she whispered, and drew LaFontaine into a kiss. She wound her hands into their shaggy hair as they wrapped warm strong arms around her.  The kiss quickly deepened.  It had been so long since she’d had their taste on her tongue, so long since she could feel the thump of blood pulsing through their veins.  Lila let one of her hands slip from the back of their neck to their jaw, and then down to their pulse point.  So many nights she’d laid asleep trying to remember the sound of their heartbeat, their taste and smell and the feel of them against her. 

 Their body was different now, harder and wounded and there was a desperation in the way they returned her kiss.  But they were still her LaFontaine under it all, and she was relieved as the love flowed between them, palpable and strong. Breathless, she pulled back, pressing their foreheads together.  “I missed you,” they murmured.  She smiled; they’d included that sentiment in every single letter.

 “I missed you too, darling.”  Pulling back more, she studied their face, running her hands over their brow and cheeks and jaw, through the hair that needed a trim. There was a sadness in their eyes, a familiar grief, and her stomach bottomed out.  She saw the same grief in her own face every time she looked in a mirror.  Somehow she knew what they hadn’t spoken.  “Billy’s not coming back, is he?”

 They shook their head, tears gathering in bright blue eyes.  “No,” they croaked, a sob working its way out of their chest.  She pulled them into her arms, resting their head on her shoulder and wrapping them up in her love.  Their hands clawed at her back, sobs wracking their body. By the time they were cried out, Lidia stood in the doorway, opening it for Missus Hughes, who carried a battered tea service.

 Red-faced, the couple separated, and Lila climbed to her feet.  “Missus Hughes, you remember my husband, Private Perry?”  She rested a comforting hand on their shoulder as they wiped their face with a handkerchief. 

 “It’s just Mister Perry now,” LaFontaine corrected gently. “Discharged as of a week ago. It’s good to see you, Missus Hughes.”

 Their landlady, a kind if exceedingly proper elderly widow, gave a brittle smile, before passing the tea set to Lila. “Lovely to have you back, Mister Perry.  How about I keep an eye on young Lidia here for the afternoon?  Let you two have some time to talk.  She can help me with supper.”

 Lila smiled.  “That would be wonderful, thank you.  We have some matters to discuss.”

 Missus Hughes nodded.  “Supper’s at six sharp, Mister Perry, in case you forgot. Come on, Lidia dear.” She closed the door behind them, ushering Lidia downstairs to the kitchen.

 LaFontaine cleared a space on the table for the tea set as Lila put it down, and let their wife fix their cups before speaking. “It was at Petersburg. I don’t know if the papers have said much about the siege.”  Lila nodded; she bought a paper almost daily, had a stack of clippings she’d saved regarding the movements of LaFontaine’s regiment and the general progress of the war.  “Billy was right beside me, until he wasn’t, until he was screaming.  Until he wasn’t.”  Their hands shook as they took their first sip of tea. “Then I got hit, in the leg. Almost lost it.” They paused, and took another sip of tea.  “I was in hospital for a month, where a few of the nurses were kind enough to keep quiet,” they gestured to their chest vaguely as their wife nodded in understanding, “then I was discharged when it was obvious I’d never walk right again. Caught the next train back here, arrived earlier today.  Came straight home, though it took awhile with this limp.”  They finished their cup of tea, and set down the cup with still-shaking hands.  “This changes our plans.  I need the crutch.”

 Lila set down her own tea and covered LaFontaine’s shaking hands with her own steady ones.  “It changes nothing.  We can still do everything we planned.  Go out west.  Find our fortune. The only difference is we have Lidia.”

 “Does she even remember Sarah Jane?” LaFontaine whispered.

 Lila shook her head.  “No.  She doesn’t.” She squeezed her spouse’s hands, smiling softly.  “We’ll tell her all about them.  About Sarah Jane and Billy.  And we’ll love her as our own.”

 Swallowing hard, LaFontaine nodded.  “I never wanted to give you a child this way,” they whispered.

 “No one would.  But it’s how things have happened.  We’ll make the best of it.  We always do.”  She smiled, unable to control her joy even in the midst of sorrow and her spouse’s obvious pain.  “You’re home, love. You’re _home_.”

 Looking down at their leg, they muttered, “Well, most of me.”

 “ _All_ of you.” She reached across the small table, turned their head to face her.  “Let’s get you out of that uniform, it’s filthy. Do you need any bandages changed?”

 They nodded.  “Not for much longer, though, I don’t think.”

 Lila rose and dug through the small bureau for the clothes LaFontaine had left behind.  She found a shirt, undergarments, and trousers in short order. Setting them on the bed, she left the room briefly to get a bucket of warm water from by the kitchen hearth.

 The jacket was the first garment she peeled off her spouse, folding it carefully before removing their boots.  Next came the suspenders, which she set aside. She slid off their shirt and undershirt until only the wide cloth that bound their breasts was left. It was stained with sweat and blood, obviously not something they had been able to wash often. She unfastened it, and set it aside.  It was barely good for rags anymore and she could sew a new one.  When they were down to their pants, she picked up a clean rag and dampened it before bathing LaFontaine, gently wiping them free of dirt and grime, uncovering new scars that dotted their skin.  They hummed happily at the careful, loving attention. Soon she helped them stand and pulled down their trousers as well as their undergarments.  She got her first look at the wounds her spouse carried, and felt tears gather.  They groaned as she cleaned the wound and covered it with a fresh bandage.

 “I _am_ healing,” they murmured as she wiped her tears. 

 She nodded, and moved to help them into clean clothes. The trousers and shirt were far looser than they had been when LaFontaine last wore them.  Lila sighed, and helped straighten out her spouse’s twisted suspenders.  A pair of thick socks Lila had just finished knitting and their old brogans completed the transformation from soldier to civilian.  Soon, Private Perry was gone and LaFontaine Perry reemerged but for the haunted look in their eye and the crutch they needed to get around.

 Lila cupped their cheek in her hand, stroking softly with her thumb.  “Thank you, for coming back to me,” she said, her voice quiet and thick with emotion.

 “Always,” came LaFontaine’s equally quiet reply. “I’ll always come back to you.” 


	5. October 11, 1870 - mountains of Styria, Austria

She should have known. She’d been playing chess with Mother for over a millennium. Knew the twists and tricks she liked to play. Mattie swore as the donkey she’d brought with her halted again and she had to tug it back into motion. A holiday in Paris was much more her style, but here she was, in the mountains of Styria, no more than a vampire’s stone-throw from Silas, with a pack animal, looking for her baby sister. Whom Mother had buried in a coffin full of blood over fifty years before.

 Mattie was mildly embarrassed. She’d not noticed Carmilla’s absence for nearly a decade. She’d been put off by Mother’s reassurances for another few years. But for the past four decades she’d tried to pry the secret of Carmilla’s location from her Mother. It had taken two sacrifice cycles, where she’d taken her sister’s place at Silas, as well as promises to help with the next one, and the handover of her necklace, before their mother had deigned to reveal where she’d buried Carmilla. Mattie was sure it was yet another move in her diabolical chess game, but she didn’t care. What mattered was getting Carmilla back. For over a hundred and fifty years her sister had been a treasured source of love and affection in Matska’s life. Even as a vampire, Mircalla was made to love others. Matska shuddered to think how over a half century in a box would change her baby sister. It was certainly one of Mother’s more creative punishments. She shivered at the thought, her hand automatically going for the necklace that wouldn’t hang around her neck again. It was worth the cost, to get Mircalla back above ground. 

The now-abandoned town was right where Mother said it would be. Matska tied the donkey’s lead to a hitching post, grabbed the shovel and pry bar she’d brought, and headed towards the town graveyard. At the very edge, backing into the forest, was what appeared to be an angel statue. Until she got closer and saw the fangs on the angel and how the cherubic fingers ended in claws. With her vampire hearing she could already make out the muffled keening from her sister beneath the earth. At the base of the statue she pulled on heavy work gloves, mindful of the holy water the ground was absolutely soaked in. Mother must have come to re-soak it just a few days beforehand, as one final punishment of her eldest daughter. Her vampire strength served her well, even having to work around the hazard of the soaked earth. Dawn was still a few hours away when her shovel hit the coffin. At the clank of iron on wood, the keening stopped, and was replaced by a horrific screaming.

 By the time she’d uncovered the coffin lid enough to pry it up she was shivering at the sound of her sister’s screams. The last rays of moonlight hit the figure curled inside the box, her clothes soaked with blood and the coffin half-empty of liquid. Matska realized Mother must have come back on occasion to not only resoak the ground above in holy water - effectively trapping Mircalla - but also to refill the coffin, to keep her alive and conscious, drowned in a mixture of human blood and her own excretions. The stench was horrific - aged blood, vomited blood, and only the gods knew what else as Matska refused to think of it - and on instinct she recoiled. But it was Mircalla in there, her dress in tatters, her hair a mass of bloody tangles around her face. Tossing the pry bar and shovel out of the deep hole, Matska approached her sister as if Mircalla was a feral animal. Which, in many ways, she was.

 It took a while to coax Mircalla out of the coffin and into Matska’s arms. She moved slowly, her joints obviously stiff and sore. Matska cursed their mother - there wasn’t even room in the coffin for Mircalla to turn into her panther. As soon as Mircalla was standing, Matska lifted her into her arms, and with one powerful leap landed them right beside the hole she had dug. Glancing over, she noted it was at least ten feet deep, and every foot of dirt had been soaked with holy water. She had no idea where or how their mother had gotten enough to do that, but she shuddered at the very idea of it. Even at her age, holy water burned.

 Dawn was fast approaching and Matska could hear the first of the songbirds in their perches. The parsonage for the church and associated graveyard was nearby, and she had no qualms about kicking in the door. She set Mircalla down on the floor carefully and with a vampire’s swiftness returned with all the gear she had brought packed onto her damn donkey. The donkey itself was tied to the front porch; she would tend to it later. Her original plan of letting Mircalla feed from it was out of the question - she’d probably have to bundle her sister onto the beast as she was in no condition to walk all the way out of the mountains, let alone to the other side of the mountains from Silas, where they could catch a train to anywhere but Styria.

 A few minutes later she’d carefully covered every window in the kitchen and parlor. Another little while meant a fire started in the dusty hearth and buckets of water lugged in from the nearby well. She set a large pot near the fire to warm some of the water. Then she brought Mircalla in from the front hall, settling her on a thin pallet. Her sister’s screams had faded away, replaced by occasional whimpers. She still had yet to actually react to Matska’s presence, and the way she arranged her limbs made her seem like she was still trapped in her coffin.

 When the water was sufficiently warm, Mattie stripped her sister of the blood soaked rags she was wearing, and carefully cut off the long tangled hair. As she proceeded to wash her sister, she hummed. Songs from both their childhoods. The songs they’d danced to in so many cities across the world. The latest waltz. The tune she’d heard from the organ grinder at the train station in Paris.

 Mircalla’s pale skin was stained by the blood she’d soaked in for over a half a century. By the time most of the actual blood was carefully washed off she was still a faint pink. And she was silent but for the occasional incoherent moan. Mattie frowned, moving over to her packs to get a towel and clean clothes. Much like when she was bathed, Carmilla submitted to her sister’s attentions, moving her body as guided as Mattie dried and dressed her. Wrapped in bedclothes and a thick blanket, Mattie finally grabbed the stout bottles of mixed wine and blood, pouring from them into two cups. She gulped down her own and tried to hand the second to Mircalla. But her sister remained still, staring off into nothing.

 “You have to drink. It’s mixed with a very nice pinot noir, dearest.” She inched closer, and tried to curl Mircalla’s hand around the cup. Failing that, she held it up against Carmilla’s mouth. “Drink, darling. Please.”

 An inhuman screech came from her sister’s mouth before Carmilla bolted to her feet unsteadily. Almost falling over, her muscles atrophied and sore, she finally made eye contact with Matska before turning into her panther. Carmilla roared, the sound both terrifying and utterly forlorn.

 “Oh darling, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” Mattie cooed as she moved closer and reached out a hand towards the panther’s head. Mircalla shied away at first, but then allowed Mattie to pet her head. She kept stroking the big cat, kept humming her sister’s favorite songs, and, after about an hour, Carmilla’s forepaws and head were nestled in Mattie’s lap. A deep, soft purr rumbled out of the panther’s chest and Mattie breathed a sigh of relief. Carmilla was in there, somewhere. She had her sister back. All the sacrifice, the bowing to their mother’s demands, was worth it.


	6. December 31, 1870 – Paris, France

 Carmilla barely remembered the journey from Styria to Paris.  She remembered walking out of the mountains as a panther, and Mattie getting her to transform into a girl again.  She remembered long hours in a train compartment alone with her sister, who merely stared out the window and let her brood in her cat form.  She remembered being coaxed into human shape again when they arrived in Paris and Mattie shuffling her into a waiting hansom cab.

 Paris, like every large human city, reeked to her sensitive nose.  It was something she was used to – or had been used to, before the coffin.  Over five decades where all she could smell was rotted blood and her own body, and sometimes the dirt around her, sometimes the holy water that her mother poured on top of the soil above her (holy water smelled like burning to her, as if her nostrils were on fire), it made the transition back to society difficult.  The small villages had been bad enough, the train overwhelming as it reeked of coal fires and hot steel and a thousand other passengers leaving behind their scents in the compartment.  But there was something about the city itself, its bustle and congestion and vibrant life, that made her want to retreat.

 Hiding in Mattie’s house was easy.  It was one of many she knew her sister kept around the world, though she had not visited them all.  Just as her sister hadn’t visited all of hers.  The last time she’d been in Mattie’s Paris house it was the eighteenth century.  Over a hundred years had wrought certain changes to a house she used to know like the back of her hand.  Gas lamps, coal-fired cookstoves instead of wood, new wallpaper, new servants.

 She’d never understood that about her sister – keeping human servants in the house.  Carmilla wanted her privacy, valued it beyond all concerns about who would stoke the fires at night or scrub the floors.  But Mattie’s servants were good at keeping to the shadows.  If she wasn’t still so out of it, she likely would have felt bad about that – she knew a great deal about the mistreatment of underlings, after all.  But only a couple months out of the coffin, she was grateful to be left alone and did her best not to make an atrocious mess for them to clean up.

 She still felt in a daze.  Carmilla had dreamt a thousand times about being released from her bloody prison.  Had dreamed about it being her sister pulling her free, only for Mattie’s face to transform into Maman’s, before her dream-throat was ripped out.  Had dreamed she was freed, went back to her apartment in Madrid (or Paris or London or Berlin, depending on the dream), and found Ell’s decomposed corpse in her bed – or worse, a vampire Ell completely under her mother’s control.  She’d woken dozens of times to choke on the blood filling her lungs and mouth.

 Being out of the coffin felt unreal.  As if it was yet another dream.  The first night in Paris, she’d let Mattie scrub her clean of blood, as she tried to process the sensations – the water in the tub that was too thin and hot to be the blood she was used to, the texture of the washcloth, the scent of the soap, the coal burning in the stove, Mattie’s hands guiding and moving her compliant body.  Since then, her sister talked at her about everything and nothing for at least an hour every day, but otherwise left her with a glass of blood to drink, the daily newspaper, and a pile of books.

 Christmas had passed them by, the noise of revelers seeping in past Mattie’s thick curtains every night for a week.  Mattie had never celebrated many holidays, but she had a special distaste for Christmas.  Carmilla couldn’t say she liked Christmas herself, so she was content to join Mattie in barricading themselves in the study, thick books in hand.  Mattie had promised to teach her Sumerian in the new year, and spent the past week digging out her books, as well as designing lessons.  In another life, Carmilla was quite sure her sister would be that feared yet grudgingly respected teacher every school seemed to have, at least according to modern novels.  

 (She does wish, sometimes, that she’d had more formal education before being turned, been allowed more time at Mother’s new university outside the sacrifice times.  But while her Mother only wanted a pretty face, someone to tempt girls into sin and eventual death, Mattie had always been willing to tutor her – languages, mathematics, history, music.  Carmilla read the science books mostly on her own.  And now, over fifty years of knowledge to make up, decades of wars and more wars as the humans tore themselves apart over silly differences, blood soaking into fields across the world, killing each other in new and novel ways.)

 New Year’s Eve was bright and clear, revelers drunk in the streets fairly early in the day.  Carmilla hid in the back parlor for most of the afternoon while Mattie dealt with a visiting business associate.  Her sister had dealings that spanned much of the globe, and the details were not something Carmilla cared to involve herself in.  Instead, she had yet another Dickens novel to read and her sister’s servants were directly below her, enjoying a bit of music and dancing thanks to Mattie’s third piano.  

 By nightfall, both Mattie’s business and the servants’ revelry had finished.  Carmilla joined her sister in the front parlor, surprised to see Mattie was not alone.

 “Darling, this is my business associate, Amina.  She’ll be joining us for the evening,” Mattie said, offering Carmilla two glasses – one of blood and a second of a dark red wine.  Carmilla nodded, accepted the beverages, and scurried to her favorite chair by the fire with her book under her arm.  Mattie turned to her companion and apologized, her voice raised slightly, “You’ll have to forgive my sister her atrocious manners.  She is still recovering from an extended illness.”

 “Undoubtedly she is a pleasure when in more robust health,” Amina replied, her voice calm, almost amused.

 “Of course she is.  Carmilla is normally _quite_ the charmer,” Mattie said, sipping at her wine.  When it was clear that Carmilla would not be joining in any socializing she moved over to the small parlor piano, her newest instrument, and began to play.  Waltz after waltz filled the room as Mattie tried to tempt her sister’s interest in anything outside of her books.  It was only when she switched to an upbeat polka that Carmilla lifted her head from the pages she was engrossed in.  “Ah, music soothes the savage beast,” Mattie remarked with a smirk as her fingers danced across the keys.  

 Carmilla managed a glare and a growl before clearing her throat.  “What is this?”

 “A new dance craze.  Well, new to _you_ ,” replied Mattie.  “If you like, I can teach it.”  After glancing at her companion, Mattie rose from the piano and let the other woman replace her at the keys.  She held out her hand to her sister, eyes as close to pleading as Carmilla had ever seen.  With a grimace, Carmilla set her book aside and grasped Mattie’s hand, letting her sister haul her to her feet.

 Throughout the evening, Mattie pushed Carmilla around the impromptu dance floor as their guest played piano, song after song, never failing.  By midnight, Carmilla was laughing, her smile almost as bright as the last time Mattie had seen her before the coffin, as she let Mattie spin her around the room.

 The large grandfather clock in the parlor struck midnight, its gong ringing out.  Mattie spun Carmilla into her arms and pressed a kiss to her sister’s cheek.  “May this year be better than the last, my little monster,” she whispered.

 “It wouldn’t take much,” Carmilla replied, her mood immediately soured.  With a regretful look, she pressed a kiss to Mattie’s cheek before pulling away.  “I think I’ll retire now.”  Scooping her book up from the couch, she offered a nod to Amina at the piano, and scurried from the room.

 Mattie glanced sadly at Amina.  “She was herself for a few moments.”  The other woman could only shrug.

 Carmilla could hear her sister’s words as she scurried up the stairs to her room.  And it was hers, hers alone, as Mattie had set it aside for her use when she bought the house a century and a half before, when Carmilla was still finding her way as a vampire.  Bookcases filled one entire wall and the bed was the original Mattie had purchased for her – ridiculously ornate, with thick curtains she could close and cut herself off from the rest of the world.  But the mattress itself was soft and thick, the bedding warm but not overwhelming, the room itself blessedly familiar in a world that had changed drastically while she was being punished.  

 Shrugging out of the trousers and shirt she’d worn that day, Carmilla crawled into bed and pulled the curtains.  It was warm and quiet, with only the muted light of the bedside lamp seeping through the curtains.  There was the rustling of the servants, and the murmured conversation of her sister and Amina underneath the piano, as one of them continued to play, but for a city she had found enough quiet to soothe.

 The dark of her room was a very different dark than the coffin, easier on her eyes, but she still kept the lamp on at all times.  Waking up from a nightmare in the dark – and her body clock was still so muddled that she actually slept at night frequently – had led to her screaming herself hoarse more than once, even when Mattie arrived quickly to pull her out of her nightmare.

 She was going to owe Mattie so much for this.  For caring for her, for getting her out of the coffin – and they still hadn’t discussed whatever price Maman extracted for that - for not leaving her alone for a second when she needed someone there to ground her but also leaving her alone when it was clear she could handle no company.

 Carmilla huddled in her nest of blankets, drifting off as she tried to forget the horror that had consumed the last year – the last five decades – of her unlife.  When she slipped off into dreaming, it was comparatively easy.

 That should have been a sign.  The nightmare was a variation on the same theme that had plagued her for the past month.  

  _The blood surrounding her was thick and warm and fresh.  It filled her nostrils and ears and mouth and lungs, burned her eyes, soaked her clothes and hair.  There was a part of her that wanted to gorge on it – she’d been hungry for so long since Maman last filled the coffin back up – and another part that screamed.  Obviously Maman was not done with her punishment, filling the coffin meant she’d be trapped there even longer.  As she wavered between trying to scream with her blood-filled lungs and swallowing as much as she could, she heard a noise from above._

  _Someone was digging.  Through the holy water-infused earth that burned when it dripped into her coffin.  She could hear grunts and the sound of spades in the ground, moving the dirt above.  Finally, finally – days or months or years could have passed and she wouldn’t have been able to tell – she heard the thunk of iron on wood.  And then the screech as the coffin’s lid was torn off._

  _Instead of Maman, or Mattie, both of whom she’d thought of as possibilities for her savior, it was Ell.  Ell, looming above her at the edge of the grave.  Ell, her honey-blonde hair whipping in the storm-laced wind.  Fingers curled into claws.  Eyes wild, and teeth bared.  The last dress Carmilla had seen her in torn to shreds and stained with blood._

  _Carmilla wrenched herself into a sitting position and retched, coughing up blood from her lungs, shaking it from her ears, vomiting it up from her stomach.  She heaved until there was nothing in her, and she took great gasping breaths of air that she didn’t need.  The air, however, was still saturated in the scents of blood and earth, and she choked on it when she realized._

  _“You’ve gotten yourself into a bit of trouble, haven’t you, darling,” Ell said, her mouth in a cruel smirk._

  _Carmilla wanted to flee.  But the hole was narrow and there was nowhere to go except straight through her beloved.  She tensed to bolt – through or past Ell didn’t matter but she had to escape – until a shadowy form appeared at Ell’s back and ran a perfectly manicured nail down her arm.  The sight of Maman, curled against Ell’s body, made Carmilla want to retch again._

  _“She has.  But I would think she’s learned a lesson, hasn’t she, my darling?  Such a lovely lesson.  And you’ll teach her next one, correct?”  Maman smirked, her eyes glowing with that demonic pleasure she reveled in._

  _“Oh yes, Mother.  I am your instrument.”  Ell sneered into the hole and reached for Carmilla, her fangs gleaming in the moonlight._

 Carmilla woke, screaming.  She was trapped in her blankets, and scrabbled to free herself, tearing the duvet in half as eider down flew everywhere.  She could hear the stomping of bare feet on the floorboards as her bedroom door slammed open.  A part of her knew she was awake, but she couldn’t stop the screams escaping her throat.

 Mattie threw back the bedcurtains, light flooding more directly into Carmilla’s eyes.  She knew better than to contain Carmilla in a warm firm hug – that had resulted in a rather large dent in the wall the one time she’d tried and getting someone in to replace the plaster had been a severe annoyance, not to mention the prospect of wallpapering until Carmilla had simply shoved yet another bookcase taken from another room in front of the replastered wall.  She also knew shaking Carmilla wouldn’t do, nor slapping her.  Instead she laid a single soft hand on Carmilla’s cheek, and began to sing.

 Mattie was not the singer her sister was.  Her gifts tended more to the instrumental side of music, but she could carry a tune well enough and her voice had a pleasant, warm lilt.  She started with the lullabies her human mother had sung to her, a millennia ago.  While she could barely remember the woman’s face, she could remember her voice.  When she ran out of her mother’s tunes, she switched to the songs a young Mircalla had taught her older sister, the songs a nanny had once sung to lull an active young countess to sleep and the simple tunes she’d picked up from a castle full of servants.  She ran out of those songs and switched to simply any ballad she could recall.

 Her voice was rough and sore by the time Carmilla seemed to blink awake, her screams finally ceasing.  The room was blessedly quiet for a long moment as Carmilla’s eyes focused for the first time since she woke from her nightmare.  “Mattie?”

 “I’m here, dearest,” Mattie soothed her.  She slid her hand from Carmilla’s cheek to around the back of her neck, pulling her sister to her as she leaned in, their foreheads pressed softly together.

 A few long moments of silence followed, Carmilla’s breathing the only sound, until the soft patter of footfalls came from down the hall.  They stopped in the doorway and stood there for a few minutes before speaking.  “Is there anything I can do?” Amina asked, wrapped in one of Mattie’s dressing gowns.

 “No, morsel, not a thing,” Mattie replied, rubbing circles on Carmilla’s tense neck as she spoke.  Amina disappeared from the doorway, heading back to bed, as Mattie concentrated again on her little sister, who was sucking in air like she actually needed to breathe.  Mattie shifted them both, laying face to face in the shredded bedding.  “You’re awake, my little monster.  You’re awake and you’re free.  I won’t let her do that ever again.”

 Gasping, Carmilla pressed a soft kiss to her sister’s cheek before pulling the older vampire close, huddling against Mattie as she cried, only starting to calm when Mattie rubbed circles on her back.

 As the sun started to peek over the Paris horizon, Amina tiptoed into Carmilla’s bedroom with a spare blanket and covered the two sisters with it as they slept soundly in one another’s arms.


	7. January 10, 1880 - San Francisco, California

 LaFontaine wiped down the tables in the dining room of the boarding house they owned with their wife.  Their leg ached, and they stumbled as they made a last few swipes with their rag.

 Lila bustled in, red and silver curls aflame in the rare San Francisco sunshine that streamed through carefully scrubbed windows.  “I can finish up, darling.  Why don’t you sit down?”  It was phrased as a question but was undoubtedly an order.  They smiled at her and settled into a seat with the morning newspaper.

 “Thank you,” they said, sighing in relief.  “It’s aching bad today.”

 “The fog’s thick,” she murmured, grabbing the rag to finish scrubbing the tables to her standards.

 Almost fifteen years in San Francisco, and LaFontaine had ached for all of them.  But they’d made do.  Used their savings to buy a decrepit old building and turn it into a halfway decent boarding house, making little improvements over time until it was clean, cozy, and known for its friendliness towards those who might be dissuaded from a more “reputable” establishment.  

 In almost twenty years of marriage, they’d made a life with Lila, raised Lidia into adulthood, took in a street urchin as a second child – Lidia rejoicing in the role of sister - and then buried their first child when scarlet fever killed her.  Now their second child was an adult, courting a girl who lived down the street, young Daniel taking more and more of a role in running the boarding house as their leg stiffened worse and worse as the years went by.

 Their child stomped down the stairs in a clatter of big feet and awkward limbs, still gangly and growing despite being twenty.  Daniel towered over both parents, chest bound like LaFontaine’s, wearing trousers and shirt with too-short sleeves, and wielding the same wicked grin that so frequently graced LaFontaine’s face.

 “Papa, I’m done with chores,” she said, not noticing Lila in the room as well.

 “That’s good.  You can go put on the new clothes I bought you,” Lila replied.  “You’re not leaving the house looking so scruffy again.”

 Swooping over to her adoptive mother, Daniel leaned over to press a kiss to her forehead.  “Thank you, Ma.”  Though they lived comfortably enough, Daniel was well aware there was rarely the spare cash to constantly clothe her as she grew so tall, and long past were the years Lila could alter a hand-me-down of LaFontaine’s for Daniel.

 “You’re welcome, dear.  I know you’re seeing Arne today,” Lila tutted, smoothing Daniel’s vest.  

 Blushing, Daniel nodded, a shy grin spreading across her face.  “Oh, and the guests in room three were awake and moving around.”  She moved to the windows, drawing the thick blackout curtains easily so the room was dim, the sun blocked out.

 “Thank you.  Now shoo.  Go change so you can meet your girl,” LaFontaine said, waving Daniel off.

 Lila shook her head, amused at their child’s enthusiasm.  “How long do you think until Arne joins the family officially?” she asked her spouse.

 “Within a year.”  

 A knock sounded at their front door, and she bustled to answer it.  A minute later, she ushered Arne into the room ahead of her.  “Daniel will be down in a minute, just had to freshen up,” she said, gesturing for Arne to sit at the same table as LaFontaine.

 “I’m sorry for being so early, but Mama let me have the whole afternoon,” Arne said apologetically.  She pushed her curls away from her face and slid her spectacles higher.

 “You’re saying goodbye to the Emperor, right?” LaFontaine asked, setting down their newspaper.

 Arne nodded.  “After the funeral we were just going to go for a stroll.”

 “He was always very kind to us,” Daniel remarked, re-entering the room in brand-new, freshly-pressed shirt and trousers, and her best vest.  She fiddled with a bowler hat in her hands.

 “I remember when you ran full-tilt into him, playing in the street,” Lila smiled sadly.  The loss of Emperor Norton had the entire city in mourning.

 Daniel flushed, embarrassed at the childhood anecdote.  “Shall we go?” she said to Arne, offering her elbow.

 Arne rose, smoothing her dress down before stepping closer and hooking her hand through Daniel’s proffered arm.  “Yes.  Good day, Mister and Missus Perry.”

 “Why don’t you see if you can come over for supper sometime this week, Arne?” Perry asked.  “Ask your parents and let us know.”

 “I will, thank you.”  Arne smiled and let Daniel lead her out of the house.

 Lila and LaFontaine smiled as they watched their younger child leave in such good company.  “Maybe six months,” LaFontaine corrected their earlier guess.

 “Mmmm,” Lila replied as she patted her spouse’s shoulder on her way past.  “I’m going to go get something warmed up for the guests in room three.”

 LaFontaine spun around in their chair. “You know something, don’t you?”

 With a happy, secretive grin, Lila couldn’t help but blush as she nodded.  “Let Daniel surprise us.”  LaFontaine replied with that beaming, broad smile that she fell in love with when they were young.

 “We’ll have to rearrange the rooms a bit,” they remarked.  “Daniel’s room is tiny, and not fit for a couple of newlyweds.”  They both stopped for a moment.  Daniel and Lidia had shared that room for years.  A single bed and a trundle were crammed into it and when the trundle was pulled out all the floorspace was basically gone.  

 Lila cleared her throat.  “If we take out the bureau and the trundle, it’s perfectly serviceable for a single guest.”

 LaFontaine glanced over at the last full family portrait, hanging on the wall for all their guests to see.  Daniel towered over everyone, and Lidia was shorter than both her parents – which they all marveled at, consider her birth parents’ heights.  “I suppose it’s time.  I’m surprised Daniel wanted to stay in there after…”

 Shaking her head, Lila moved back towards her spouse.  “I know, I know.  I can barely make myself go in even now.”  They shared a moment of silence, still mourning their lost child.  “We can give them the attic room.  We don’t put people there that often anyway, and they’ll have some privacy.”

 LaFontaine nodded.  “At least it already has a proper bed.  I don’t want to haul too much furniture up there.”

 “Is that new quilt you started for them?”

 They grinned up at their wife, nodding.  A noise from the hallway distracted them, and they waved Lila off.  “It is.  But can you go get something for our guests?  I can hear them on the stairs.  I’ll get them settled in here.”

 Lila bustled out of the room and LaFontaine could hear her exchange greetings in the hall.  They pulled themselves to their feet and moved over to the sideboard, getting out fresh table linens and cutlery for the women from room three.

 They shuffled into the dining room appearing half-asleep.  “Miss Belmonde, Miss Karnstein, good day,” they said.  “We’ll have your meal for you in a moment.”

 The only reply from the two women was a groan from Miss Karnstein and a grimace that was probably meant to be a polite smile from Miss Belmonde.  Choosing the wiser side of valor, LaFontaine fled to help their wife in the kitchen.  The pan of hot water was already bubbling as the glass bottle of blood bought from the undertaker inside heated.  Another held porridge that Lila scooped into two bowls just as LaFontaine arrived.  “Can you pour their drinks, dear?” she said as she fetched down a tray and buttered the toast.

 Within a few minutes, their meal of porridge, toast, and blood – as well as two cups of strong coffee – was arranged on a tray that Lila carried into the dining room.  Both their guests brightened as they drank down their blood and sipped at coffee while shoveling in porridge.  Lila and LaFontaine left them to it.

 That night, several of the boarding house’s guests mingled in the parlor.  Some read, there was a game of cards in one corner, and the women from room three sat in a corner quietly reading.  It was a buzzing Daniel, with Arne in tow, that ducked a head in and glanced around for Lila and LaFontaine.

 Miss Karnstein was closest to the door and lifted her head up from her book to remark, “Your parents are back in the kitchen, ginger.”

 “Uh, thank you?” Daniel replied, puzzled, before heading back.  Daniel found her parents washing dishes together, LaFontaine propped against the sink and their hands buried in sudsy water as Lila dried and stacked.  “Ma, Papa,” she said, barreling into the room and pulling a blushing Arne along.

 They both paused in their chore, Lila wiping at LaFontaine’s sudsy hands before turning around.  “Daniel?” she asked, hand to her chest as she took in the blushing, excited pair.  LaFontaine simply grinned as soon as they looked at the young couple.

 “She said yes!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joshua Abraham Norton aka Norton I, Emperor of the United States and Protector of Mexico, was an eccentric and well-known figure in mid-to-late 19th century San Francisco. His funeral really did occur on the 10th of January, 1880, and nearly 30,000 people attended.


	8. May 3, 1924 - Paris, France

Swimming back to consciousness was like surfacing from beneath the blackest water.  Or blood.  Carmilla physically shook the sensation off, sitting up in bed and panting hard.  The gramophone across the room was hissing, needle free of the grooves of the record she'd put on when she'd arrived home this morning.  The sun was high in the sky now, moving into dangerous territory and sending a patch of sunlight creeping across the floor of her apartment through the open window curtains.

Carmilla forced herself up, stretching as she slung an unbuttoned shirt over bare shoulders.  Her arms slipped into the sleeves but she didn't bother buttoning it.  Skirting the square of light on the floor, she moved the needle back to its place to silence the idling hiss and pop.  She scratched at the back of her head with one hand while the other jerked the curtains closed to cut off the daylight.

The woman in her bed shifted and turned at the screeching of the metal rings on the rod.  “What time is it?” she grumbled, making no move to remove herself from the sheets.

“Probably about time that your husband is going to be wondering where you are,” noted Carmilla deliberately as she pulled trousers on, slinging a single suspender over her shoulder.  Her wrinkled white shirt still hung loose and open, framing pale skin and a tight stomach.

It was a successful reminder, getting her conquest back into her dress and out her door in a flat five minutes.  She hadn't eaten in a day, restraining herself from taking nips from customers if not from taking married women to bed, and her stomach grumbled.

There was blood in the refrigerator, as well as a few bottles of wine.  She picked up the wine, pulling the cork easily.  Feeling peckish, she took a long drink straight from the bottle and left the glass liter bottles of blood where they were on the rack.

The sun was up but there were ways to get around in a city as old as London.  No one blinked twice when she came up through the back storeroom of the bakery and sauntered up to the counter.  She'd buttoned her shirt, tucked it in, but was still distracted by straightening her suspenders as she levered herself onto the stool at the counter.

Knowing what her regular customer needed, the baker slid a cup of what looked like black coffee to her.  Only the red stain left on the rim after her first sip betrayed the truth.  Of course, blood wasn't on the menu on the wall.  In this neighborhood it was simply the unspoken secret that everyone was in on.

Hungover, Carmilla turned to glare at the door when it opened, spilling light across the floor nearest where she was seated.  Another sip from her cup fortified her.  She choked on it when she saw the girl.

The young woman was paying no attention to the other people in the shop, browsing the loaves cooling on their racks.  Carmilla couldn't take her eyes off her, even as they watered while she cleared the blood from her throat.  She was slim, wearing a proper blazer and skirt, long honeyed hair straight and smooth.  Something in the way she moved was familiar but Carmilla couldn't place her.  She wasn't a vampire or someone she'd slept with.  She'd remember if she'd met this girl.

“Could I have a loaf of the sourdough, please?  And perhaps one of the creampuffs?”  Her accent was light, her voice soft.  Carmilla was leaning over her mug in an attempt not to be spotted staring.  “I'm sorry,” she apologized.  “Were you waiting?”

Carmilla waved her off with two fingers, lifting her cup in demonstration.  Another sip masked further scrutiny as the young woman politely ordered.  Her voice was pleasant but unfamiliar.  She was helplessly staring again, trying to place the odd sense of familiarity she couldn't shake.  Something about the way she stood, held herself, stretched her fingers at the end of straightened arms while she waited for her order to be bagged.

“Have we met?”  Blinking, Carmilla's eyes snapped up to meet swirling hazel irises.  “Forgive me if I've forgotten,” she smiled sweetly and Carmilla felt something inside her clench and flip, “But the way you're looking at me, I thought we must have met before.”

Swallowing, Carmilla shook her head mutely.  Her own mussed hair fell across her eyes and she shoved it back with her free hand.  “No, I'd remember that, sweetheart,” she stated earnestly, voice low.  Memories of Ell were suddenly at the front of her mind and she felt her throat go dry.  Blushing, the girl before her reached up to push her own hair behind her ear.  Resolutely shoving the bittersweet memories away, she cleared her throat.  “I'm Carmilla.”

“Lorelei.”  She offered her hand and Carmilla took it, lifting it to her lips without a thought.  The light kiss left the slightest imprint of blood on the back of her hand.  She swiped it away with a thumb.

“We don't know each other,” Carmilla said, gravel-voiced.  “I think it's something we should change.”

Lorelei blinked, the smile on her face growing into a wide grin.  She hopped on her toes and Carmilla felt her lungs seize.  “I would love that.  Perhaps tonight?”

Having missed more than one unnecessary breath, Carmilla coughed feverishly, leaning forward over her cup.  “I'm sorry,” she gasped as Lorelei helpfully slapped her back.  “Something caught in my throat,” she lied.  “But I have to work tonight.”  Her heart fell at the sight of Lorelei's frown.  “I run a nightclub.  Maybe you could come by?  I'll buy you a drink.”  She couldn't resist adding, “Maybe I can make you breakfast in the morning?”

Flustered, Lorelei blushed.  “Let's start with the drink.”

“You got it,” Carmilla promised with a wink.  Turning on her stool to face the door, she pointed.  “If you go out here to the left and down three blocks, my place is at the bottom of the steps on the right side of the street.  Right on the corner.  We'll have the band going after ten.  You can't miss the place.”

“I'll be there,” confirmed Lorelei with another twitching hop.  The clenching moved down to seize Carmilla's stomach but her smile didn't slip.

“Great.”  Carmilla drained the last of the blood from her cup and exchanged it for the next full mug before Lorelei could notice the red residue on the sides and the bottom.  She had a few more hours before she needed to get to the club, could afford the time to linger over her breakfast.

Lorelei took her package from across the counter, tucking the bread carefully in her arm.  Her treat she kept to nibble on.  “I'll see you tonight.”

“Most definitely, cutie,” promised Carmilla, waving two fingers as she watched her date for the evening depart the bakery.  She smiled against the rim of her cup, savoring the anticipation.  The sense of recognition, that she  _ knew _ Lorelei somehow, lingered, tickling the back of her mind.

She took perhaps more care in dressing for the evening of work than she usually did, catching herself smiling at nothing while she air dried after her shower, when she shrugged into her shirt, while she tied her tie and carefully rolled her sleeves.  There was a dressing room at the club where she could change, and her clothes sort of ended up all over the place, but tonight warranted some special attention.

It never occurred to her that Lorelei might not show up.

Distracted before she'd even come through the doors, by midnight she was despondent.  Leaning on the corner of the counter, she nursed her drink and tried, though not hard, not to glare at customers.  The latest guy wasn't taking the hint though but she waved the bouncer back.  If necessary, she could handle him herself.  It would probably feel good to get some of her frustration out.

“There you are!”  The gentle voice reached her even as she started to slide from her stool.  A hand on her chest stopped her in her tracks, arm sliding behind her back beneath her coat.  “It's so busy in here I couldn't find you.”

Carmilla turned her head, feeling relief slip down her spine as all of her muscles relaxed spontaneously.  “You made it,” she said, surprised.

“I'm sorry I'm so late!  My father -” Lorelei choked on her words.  “I got caught up.  I'm sorry.”

Following some irrepressible urge, Carmilla leaned sideways to press a kiss to her temple.  “It's alright.  You're here now.”  Fingers rubbed a circle on her side.  “Do you want a drink?  I'll get us a table somewhere a little quieter.”

“Red wine?”

“Of course.”  Carmilla leaned across the counter to hook the neck of a bottle of her best red, offering her hand as she returned to her feet.  Lorelei's touch sent a warm rush down her spine and she pulled her along eagerly.  It wasn't pretty but the room behind the stage was private and had amazing acoustics of the music playing in the main room.

“Wow,” breathed Lorelei as they squeezed into the cluttered room.

Carmilla could have hit herself as she looked around, realizing too late that what had seemed romantic was actually the worst idea she'd had in almost a hundred years.  She set the wine down slowly on a crate otherwise covered in detritus.  “I'm sorry -”

Dropping her hand, Lorelei turned slowly to take everything in.  “What for?  It's absolutely incredible back here.  This sound...”  Her head fell back, eyes closed, arms stretched to either side.  Carmilla couldn't blink as she spun in another slow circle.  Her eyes opened, hand reaching for Carmilla's.  “Dance with me?”

She didn't hesitate.  Stepping into her space, Carmilla spun her using their joined hands.  Lorelei was laughing when Carmilla reeled her back in again and took the lead.  Neither one said anything if the hand at her waist was holding her ever so slightly closer than was acceptable.  Acceptable wasn't the back room of her club with another woman.  Acceptable wasn't a fast beat paired with the dress Lorelei was wearing.

What was acceptable didn't feel like  _ this _ .

Lorelei practically melted into her when Carmilla forgot herself and started to sing along under her breath.  Thin arms looped over her shoulders, fingers in her hair.  Following the music and her own instincts, Lorelei shimmied low, stretching to the end of her reach to keep the very tips of her fingers on the back of Carmilla's neck.  Carmilla's arms went to her waist to keep her up, pulling them flush together.

She stopped singing to swallow hard, only realizing then that she'd been singing at all.

“Don't stop,” breathed Lorelei.

Completely unable to help herself, Carmilla shifted her grip down, squeezing and lifting.  Lorelei wrapped her legs around her instinctively.  A hand on her back guided her up and she was breathless as she was suddenly face to face with her date, the only thing separating their lips the breath between them.

Wide-eyed, Carmilla went still.  She had to consciously release her muscles, holding her backside with one hand while the other coaxed the legs from around her.  Gradually she let Lorelei's body slide down her front to retake her own feet.

“I got caught up,” she whispered.  “I don't – I'm sorr-”

“Don't apologize,” Lorelei cut her off, smiling as she shook her head.  One hand reached up to play with loose dark curls, eyes tracking her fingers' movements.  Flicking her gaze up to meet Carmilla's, her touch moved deliberately to stroke the line of her jaw.  Even more deliberately she cocked her head and took the incremental step to shorten the distance between them to nothing.

Carmilla met her mouth eagerly, breathing deep through her nose and letting her fingers tighten their grip on the back of Lorelei's dress.

The kiss was all too short, Lorelei dropping her face into Carmilla's shoulder and beginning to sway.  More than willing to follow, Carmilla just moved with her.  Fingers again played at the back of her neck, the other hand sliding between them to hook the buttons of her shirt and hold her close.

They moved quietly, slowly, enjoying the slow set before the band called for an intermission.  Lorelei's head came up slowly, her eyes hooded and blissfully drowsy.  “Do we need to go?”

Carmilla shook her head.  “They don't use this room for their break.”  She'd completely forgotten the wine and she withdrew two steps to get it.  “Would you care for a drink?”  She pulled the cork expertly with two fingers.

Lorelei reached for the bottle, taking a sip.  “Can we sit?”

“The bar -” Carmilla started, cut off by the soft smile and gentle head shake.

“I like it back here.  Just me and you,” Lorelei explained.

There were enough spare curtains and old drop cloths to be comfortable enough, for all that they were covered with dust.  It was the work of a minute for Carmilla to gather together a reasonable cushion but her hand caught Lorelei's when she went to sit.  Carefully, the vampire shrugged out of her coat and covered half of the seat.  “My lady,” she invited her in a murmur, gesturing with one arm.

Lorelei was grinning as she took her seat and reclined.  “Aren't they going to need you up front?” she asked as Carmilla stretched out beside her.

“It's my place.  They know not to disturb me tonight.”  One arm curled behind her head while the other snuck across Lorelei's shoulders.

“You really own the whole place?  That's incredible.  You're so young!”

Smiling to herself, Carmilla shrugged.  “What do you do?”

“I've been trying to get work at one of the papers but they all say the only job for a woman is getting coffee for the reporters.”  Dejected suddenly, Lorelei's expression fell into an adorable pout before she shrugged it off.  “I'm not giving up that easily though.  I was thinking of submitting under a man's name.”

“Do it,” Carmilla agreed emphatically.  She already knew exactly who at the Post would look at anything she told him to look at.  She smiled.  “Can I read one of your pieces some time?”

“Will you sing some night when I come in?” Lorelei countered with her own bargain.

Carmilla winked, flashing her teeth as she grinned.  “You've got a deal, cutie.”  She'd agree to anything that felt like another date.


	9. June 23, 1924 - Paris, France

There were more dates in the bar where Carmilla arrived for the evening in a gown that made her employees take a second look as she took the stage to sing with the band, cloudy mornings in shadowy corners of pastry shops where Carmilla watched Lorelei devour everything sweet she could think to get her, evenings spent strolling through the park near Carmilla's apartment.

Carmilla's work precluded most daytime outings, making it easier to be honest.  She cared about Lorelei, wanted to be completely honest with her, about everything.  Ell's response, rejection, hung like a specter over her though, making it impossible for the words “I'm a vampire, cupcake” to escape beyond the tip of her tongue.

What outed her was almost comically simple in the end.  Carmilla usually kept her blood supply in the refrigerator in her apartment but once Lorelei had started sleeping over with increasing frequency she'd simply started storing her stash at the club.  She didn't make it a habit of killing any live feeds she felt the need to take, so there was no messy trail of her victims for Lorelei to rather ironically report on.

Anything vampire related was kept safely away from her human girlfriend.  She made sure of it.

On the day everything finally fell apart Carmilla had barely answered the knock on her door before her sister Mattie was in her apartment and in her arms.  “My little monster!  I missed you so much!”

“Mattie?”  Arms curled up her sister's back, the pair of them rocking from foot to foot under the force of the momentum generated by the hard hug.  “What are you doing here?  When did you get to town?”

“Just now, darling.  I went by your little club and they told me you were at home.  I came straight over,” Mattie answered her, leaning back to look her little sister in the face.  “Beautiful,” she murmured, warm fondness in her dark eyes, in her voice.

Carmilla ducked her head, biting her lip as she smiled.  No matter how she felt about their mother, she had always adored her big sister.

Mattie's smile grew into an eager grin.  “Now, what are we going to do first – get a bite, paint the town red?”

The door opened again before Carmilla could answer, pushed open from the outside.  Lorelei stopped short at the sight of her girlfriend in the arms of a beautiful black woman.  “Oh.”

“Lunch, then.  You didn't mention you'd ordered in,” Mattie cooed eagerly.

With no time to address either misunderstanding, Carmilla lunged for her sister's hand, using the grip to spin her away from Lorelei.  “I haven't really had time to mention anything,” she reminded her pointedly.  She stood deliberately between them.  “Mattie, this is Lorelei, my girlfriend.  Lorelei, Matska Belmonde.  My sister.”

Loaded silence fell as either woman took a second look at the other with the new perspectives of who they were to Carmilla.

Mattie sniffed and Carmilla knew what was coming.  “She smells like a human.”  One hand waved her aside but Carmilla didn't move.  “I promise we'll pick you up a new one while we're out,” promised Mattie lightly.  “Just a quick bite to eat,” she tried to coax her, pouting playfully with painted lips.

“Not her,” Carmilla stated, her own tone serious and flat.  Unconsciously Lorelei edged more fully behind her.

Frowning in confusion, Mattie's eyes moved slowly between the pair of them.  “You didn't,” she breathed softly as she reached her realization.  “She's a human!  You're a vampire!  They're food.  You don't fall in love with them!  I taught you better than that, my little monster.”

Eyes closed, Carmilla's shoulders slumped.  Her back remained rigid.  She didn't know what to address first but she could feel Lorelei trembling behind her.  “Mattie, I'll find you later,” she said softly.  She opened her eyes to find her sister staring at her in disbelief.  “Later,” repeated Carmilla, an edge in her tone.

Blinking, Mattie relented when Carmilla didn't back down.  She nodded after an extended pause, leaning in to kiss a pale cheek.  “We  _ will _ be talking about this,” she promised in a whisper against her ear.

A shiver quivered down her spine, memories of their mother in the front of her mind.  She shook it off.  Mattie was not Maman.  She'd been made when their sire was only a young vampire herself, had nearly the power of their mother.  She'd broken free of the elder's machinations ages ago.  She'd always watched her sister's back.  She’d sacrificed her own freedom to save Carmilla from a blood-filled coffin.

Carmilla nodded, leaning into the hand that cupped her cheek.  “Later.”  For now she needed to try and explain things to Lorelei.  Mattie nodded, two fingers stroking her jawline gently to her chin.  She waved to Lorelei with a flourish as she strutted back out the door, smirking to herself as the human unconsciously flinched back to keep Carmilla between them.

The door shut with a solid click and the silence felt thick, heavy.  Lorelei moved away from Carmilla, at least reasonably sure that she was now safe from Mattie but clearly unsure if she was still safe from Carmilla herself.

“I won't hurt you,” Carmilla sighed without turning.

“But you do hurt people.”  It wasn't a question.  “A vampire?”  It came out quavery and soft.  “Are you – sick, or -?”

Drawing a breath, Carmilla faced her squarely.  “I'm -”

“Vampires aren't  _ real _ .”  Lorelei's voice was shrill and high.  “It's a spooky story to scare children, Carmilla!”  Her arms were stiff at her sides, fingers splayed.  Unable to stand still and look into unblinking dark eyes, she started moving, pacing the length of the room.  “It's not real,” she muttered as she moved, reaching up to push the hair back from her face and leaving it mussed.

Sighing again, Carmilla made a move, inhumanly fast, so that she was directly before Lorelei on her next turn.  “It's real.”  Drawn up short, Lorelei bounced on her toes but didn't withdraw.  “I drink blood and I have hurt people.”  She shrugged, careful to keep her hands at her sides, nonthreatening.  “I'm a vampire.  But I won't hurt you.  Not ever.”  Cautiously, slowly, she lifted her right hand to the flipped and tangled strands of long, fair hair.  Lorelei's breath caught when Carmilla smoothed fingers through her hair carefully.  She moved slowly, never shifting her gaze from the green flecked hazel of the woman in front of her.  Lorelei's eyes jumped across her face, hitting eyes, nose, lips – where they stuck before skittering back to meet hers.  “Do you want to see?”

The question was breathed, nearly whispered, into the small (and growing smaller as Lorelei swayed) space between then.

Eyes went wide, her mouth falling open, but Carmilla only smiled.  Her hand withdrew from Lorelei's hair to her own mouth.  Waiting, she used two fingers to pull her top lip up, exposing her teeth.

Fascinated despite herself, Lorelei leaned forward.  Her hand was already reaching.  “Can I?” she asked, thinking better of it at the last moment.  Carmilla nodded, the rest of her body perfectly still.  Lorelei ran the ball of her thumb across the sharp edge of a fang as though testing the honed edge of a knife.  Pressing too hard, her heart leapt when the skin parted and blood started to flow.  She jerked her hand back, thumb curled inside a protective fist.

Carmilla closed her mouth but didn't move otherwise.  “It's alright,” she promised after a moment of waiting.  “I won't ever hurt you.”  Lorelei's shoulders relaxed where she didn't realize she'd tensed them and Carmilla took a step forward.  “Can I see?”

There was nothing to stop her if she was denied but Lorelei extended her hand anyway, breathing slowly.  As if a sneeze might set her off into a bloody killing frenzy.

Taking her hand, Carmilla cocked her head as she opened the fingers to inspect the wound.  It was straight and clean, a thin slice.  Idly, her tongue ran along the same edge of the same tooth.  The blood had already slowed, the damage no worse than a paper cut.  “You're going to be just fine,” she diagnosed, looking up through her fringe at Lorelei.  “Trust me?”

It came out as more of a question than the statement she'd intended.  If her heart still could, it would have been pounding.

Lorelei didn't speak, but inclined her head in a subtle nod.  “Will you tell me -?”

“Anything you want to know,” promised Carmilla instantly.

“What is wrong with your sister?” she said almost as quickly.

Carmilla's head fell back as she laughed.  “Mattie is... Mattie.  She's opinionated and vocal, but she's family.  She's always looked out for me.”  Her voice had softened and Lorelei's smile was curious and sweet.  Carmilla's eyes fell when she felt slow fingers slip between her own.  “You really want to hear?”

Lorelei pulled on her hand gently before she nodded.  “I'm only slightly sure you're not a crazy woman with admittedly sharp teeth.”  Carmilla was still looking at their joined hands.  “But you could have hurt me any time in the last two months and you haven't.  I think your sister would have hurt me if you'd not been here.  If you have an explanation, I'll hear it.”

“And if you don't like my explanation?”  Carmilla's eyes were blank, a carefully maintained front to keep from showing exactly how much Lorelei's understanding would mean to her.

Studying her face, Lorelei lifted their hands, brushed her free hand over the back of Carmilla's before she guided it to her mouth, kissing the back of her hand lightly.  Carmilla blinked and the mask crumbled away, leaving her vulnerable and with such hope in her face that it took Lorelei's breath away.  “Talk to me,” she invited her, taking a step back to sit on the edge of the bed.

So Carmilla talked, about her mother and the sacrifice, about trying to save anyone she could.  She talked about Ell and her desperation.  Never being sure what terrible thing had happened to her, only knowing that it had.  The punishment for her disobedience.  Everything Lorelei asked of her, she answered it.

During the course of the conversation they had shifted and moved up the bed to lean against the headboard.  The sheets were loose and tousled from the night before.  Their legs were idly tangled, Carmilla's hand casually stroking the soft skin over the bones of Lorelei's ankle.

“Mattie went nuts when she found out what Mother had done.”  Carmilla laughed, shaking her head as the sunlight faded outside.  “I still remember her ripping open the coffin to let me out.  She's the only one I've ever seen go up against our mother and survive.”

Lorelei leaned more of her weight onto one elbow, her head bobbing, dipping nearer and nearer to Carmilla's shoulder.  She let it rest there with a breath.  “You're still here,” she reminded her.

Staring at the top of her head, Carmilla couldn't breathe.  She slowly stretched over with one arm and coaxed Lorelei to lean more completely against her side.  “I'm right here,” she agreed.

“Is your sister going to eat me?”  Despite herself Carmilla laughed, loudly.  Lorelei sat up enough slap her leg.  “You know what I mean!”

“No, to both ways,” answered Carmilla, her smile audible in her voice.  The arm over Lorelei's shoulders curled across the top of her chest.

Lorelei held her breath.  They could both hear her heartbeat by the time she released it.  “Are you?”

Carmilla inhaled through her nose but didn't speak immediately.  Instead she leaned forward.  Two fingers reached between them to push honey hair back, baring the slope of Lorelei's neck.  She exhaled against warm skin, lingering until she felt the tension bleed out of the human in her arms.  Carmilla kissed the side of her neck lightly.  “Only if you want me to.”


	10. July 29, 1925 - Paris, France

The knot of her tie was all wrong.  For the fourth time.  Carmilla growled under her breath as she tore it loose.  Again.

“Gentler, please,” Lorelei chided with a laugh from across the room.  “I got you that tie and I quite like the way it looks on you.”

“It won't tie straight,” grumbled Carmilla, still tugging on it, though more gently than she had been.

Only half dressed herself, Lorelei gestured her closer.  “Come here.  Let me.”  The vampire was still fiddling with it when she reach Lorelei and she swatted cool hands away.  It was charming, really, that Carmilla was so nervous.  She went to visit her father every Sunday but this was the first time Carmilla was coming with her.  She had changed her clothes twice already.  Finishing with the tie, Lorelei smoothed both hands over tense shoulders.  “Relax,” she coaxed in a whisper.  Her touch slipped down to grip her suspenders on either side.  “He will love you.”

“You don't know tha-”

Lorelei shut her up with a kiss.  “He will,” she reaffirmed against her mouth.  Carmilla pressed the next kiss deeper, moaning when Lorelei mapped her teeth with her tongue.  They were both breathless when it broke.  “He will because I do.”

Reaching up to fuss with her collars, Carmilla's mouth pulled.  “Is that what we're going to tell him?  That you love me?”  It came out as more of an accusation than she'd intended.

Lorelei stepped back, the loving expression on her face falling.  “You don't have to come,” she stated flatly.  “I believe you're the one who insisted on it, as I recall.”  Huffing, she started to turn away.

“I didn't mean that,” Carmilla said, catching her arm and pulling her back to herself.  Both hands caught her face and the vampire rose up onto her toes to kiss her forehead lightly.  “I'm sorry.  Sweetheart, I'm -”  Lorelei's hands found the back of her arms, fingers gripping the fabric of her shirt tight.  “You tell him anything you need to tell him.”  She breathed deep.  “And if you don't want me to go -”

“I want you with me, Carm,” Lorelei sighed, licking her lips as she stared into dark eyes.  “You know I hate not telling him.  But the way his health has been -”

“Shh, it's alright.”  Carmilla tugged her in, releasing a breath when Lorelei's head dropped to rest against her chest.  “I'm right here.”  Her hand cupped the back of Lorelei's head, fingers stroking carefully through soft hair.  “I just want to meet him.  If you think it's a bad idea -”

“He knows we live together.  He knows that much.”  Lorelei smiled, weak and hidden against the shoulder of Carmilla's shirt.  Close before her eyes she watched herself play idly with one of the buttons, leaning her body comfortably against her partner.  “He's asked to meet you once or twice.”

Carmilla sounded surprised, “Yeah?”

“He's hoping you'll be better at backgammon than I am.”  Her hand smoothed Carmilla's tie back into place where her fidgeting had displaced it.  “I love you.”

Lips brushed her hairline.  “I love you so much more than you can imagine,” Carmilla whispered back.  She rocked them gently from side to side, humming.

Lorelei felt steady when she finally withdrew from the embrace.  “Thank you.”  She wiped her eyes carefully and mustered a smile.  Carmilla's effort was more convincing.  “You look fantastic.  I'm a mess.”

“You're beautiful,” Carmilla denied her, shaking her head.  “Just -”  Fleet fingers knotted the scarf at her lover's throat.  “Now you're perfect.”

Her dress was still open in the back and Lorelei smirked.  “Will you do my buttons as well?”

Carmilla's hand pressed flat against her back as she turned.  “Mmm, I'm not sure that's necessary.”  Her voice was a purr that drew a genuine smile to her partner's lips.  Carmilla had this way of making her feel lighter.  Her presence, the careful touch, the warmth in her eyes that Lorelei could feel warming her through.

“Carm -”

“Fine,” she groused, beginning low and working her way up.  The backs of her fingers brushed against warm skin with every motion.  “I hope you're happy now,” she complained as she finished the task.  Her suit jacket was hanging over the back of the chair and she shrugged into it while Lorelei straightened her mother's pearls at her throat.

Lorelei was smiling as she returned to face Carmilla.  “I am and I promise that you will be too just as soon as we get home again.”

A dark eyebrow arched slowly, Carmilla's smile growing.  Finding Lorelei's hand with hers without breaking their gaze, she lifted it smoothly to her mouth.  “Are you ready to go?” she asked, tucking the hand through her own bent elbow gallantly.

It was a lovely day out, breeze rustling the leaves in the trees as they walked the short distance.  The door to her father's place stuck but Carmilla only yanked it that much more firmly, escorting Lorelei in with a hand in the middle of her back.

Compared to the brightness outside it was positively dark once the door was shut behind them.  Lorelei's hand stayed through Carmilla's elbow, leading her ably through the dimness.  “Papa, I'm here,” she called out.  “Where are you, Papa?”  

Carmilla caught her capably when her foot fumbled over something in the shadows.  “Are you alright?”

Lorelei nodded, cheeks flushed with a blush.  She found a lamp and clicked it on.  “Papa, answer me please,” she called again, raising her voice.

“Who's there?”  Confused and gruff, the answer came from deeper inside the house.  “Who is it?”

Moving swiftly toward the source of the voice, Lorelei approached the old man with her hands open to either side.  “It's Lorelei.  You know me.  I'm your -”

“Don't be foolish, girl,” he cut her off.  “I'm not likely to forget my only daughter, am I?  Come over here and give your old man a hug.”

Watching emotions flickering across her lover's face, Carmilla gathered that was something that he  _ had _ forgotten more than once.  Lorelei had told her that her father's health had been declining but hadn't mentioned that he'd had problems with his memory.

“And who's this?” he asked, his eyes watching the stranger in his house with his daughter safely tucked under the curl of his arm.

Lorelei extracted herself to make the introduction.  “Papa, this is my dear friend Carmilla Karnstein.  Carmilla, this is my father, David Howell.”

Stepping forward, Carmilla offered her hand.  David's handshake was gentle, his smile dazed but friendly.  “It's very nice to meet you, sir.”  Carmilla could feel Lorelei beaming at her and fought back the smile that wanted to spread across her face.  It was important to her to make a good impression with her partner's only family.  She couldn't be grinning like the love struck creature of the night that she was.

“Likewise.”  He clapped his hands, turning from side to side as if he might spot the reason for his daughter's visit sitting on one of the tables.  “What brings you girls out on a dreary day like this?”

Lorelei's face fell but she recovered quickly enough to avoid his noticing.  Carmilla didn't note it out loud, at the least.  “Papa, it's a lovely day out.”  She left his side to pull the curtains back, belatedly checking over her shoulder to make sure Carmilla wasn't going to be exposed to a blast of sunlight.

He frowned, moving slowly to peer out the dusty panes.  “Oh my.”

Sighing, she looped her arm through his to lead him back to a stuffed armchair.  It was positioned to let him see the light and he didn't resist taking the seat.  “Papa, have you eaten supper?”  His mouth fell open but it took several moments before he managed to speak, stammering out a confused non-answer.  “Do you remember going to the market this week?” asked Lorelei gently, kneeling in front of the chair.  She sat up on her knees to smooth her father's hair down tenderly.  “I'm going to make us something, alright?”

His eyes swung around the room, face twisting when he couldn't find whatever he was looking for.  “Where's Yvonne?  Girl, where's your mother?”

Falling back on her heels, Lorelei's breath came short.  Carmilla was behind her in the space of a heartbeat, hands catching her shoulders and keeping her steady.  In spite of herself Lorelei reached up to seize her partner's hand.

“Mr. Howell, how about your and I play a game of backgammon?” suggested Carmilla calmly.  “I see you have a board here.”

Blinking slowly, his eyes wide and wet, David nodded.  “That would suit me just fine.”

Carmilla reached down to help Lorelei to her feet, ached to hold her, but could only watch her retreat to the kitchen wiping her eyes.  

Whatever cognitive gaps he was experiencing, Daniel knew how to set the board, humming and singing under his breath to himself as he worked.  He bounced in his seat to his own music and Carmilla chewed the inside of her mouth to keep back a smile.  He was like his daughter more than a little.  She signaled for him to take the first roll of the dice.

Soon enough there were delicious smells spreading throughout the house, Lorelei bustling about to tidy up while food cooked in the apartment's small kitchen.  She brought drinks out for the two players, planting a kiss to her father's head and trailing her hand across Carmilla's shoulders as she passed behind her.

“Sit with us,” David requested before she could leave the room.  “I don't get to see you as much as an old man would like.”

Holding a dust rag, Lorelei fidgeted for a long second before she edged over to perch on the arm of Carmilla's chair.  It was instinct - to be close to her partner.  Carmilla had even moved her arm to give her space, hand resting lightly at the small of her back.

“You said you're working at -” he trailed off, unsure what the right word was.

“The newspaper,” prompted Lorelei gently.  “Yes, I am.  Writing too, not just getting drinks and dinners,” she told him, pride in every word.  Carmilla's head fell back to smile up at her, her fingers pinching the back of her dress.  Maybe she'd had Carmilla's help getting a foot in the door but she had earned her job with her work and her talent.  It didn't make it sting less when she was forced to see a man's name on her bylines.

David nodded almost idly, making his next move.  “Writing is fine for now, sweetheart.  Soon enough you're going to need a man to look after you.”

Lorelei looked beside her at Carmilla helplessly.  The vampire's hand flattened against her back, rubbing gently.  “Papa -”

“Lorelei is perfectly capable of taking care of herself,” Carmilla interjected, her voice quiet.  She rattled the dice in her palm of her free hand.  Lorelei's arm slipped across the back of her shoulders, scratching briefly at the place inside Carmilla’s right shoulder blade that always itched before she withdrew her touch.

“Carm,” murmured Lorelei, shaking her head.  Her father likely wouldn't remember this, no matter how kind it was of Carmilla to stand up for her.  She mustered a sliver of a sad smile.  The grip on the back of her dress tugged lightly, rocking her perch.

The room was filling with the savory smell of the soup Lorelei had started and she stood up to check on it.  Leaning forward, Carmilla threw her dice.  “Look at that, you've got me, Mr. H.”

David laughed, easily moving past any uncomfortableness.  “I'm quite good at this game, you know!” he crowed.

Carmilla smiled.  “You sure are, sir.”

“Dinner will be ready soon, you two.”

Carmilla looked up from the game to wink at her, leveling a smile across the room that dared anyone who saw it to deny the feelings that existed between the two women.  David was too focused on his victory move to notice the look.

“Can I help set the table or anything?” offered the vampire.  “We're done.”

“I've beaten your friend here quite soundly,” David called, one hand slapping his thigh as he made his final throw.

Smirking, Carmilla winked again, making Lorelei laugh.  Her arms curled around her middle and she wished that they were Carmilla's holding her.

“Well, if you're free I could use a pair of willing hands.”

Carmilla's eyebrows bobbed as she retired from the game, crossing the room quickly.  “You know that my willing hands are always available to you,” she said under her breath, making Lorelei's laughter break out.  Two hands shoved her into the kitchen, both of them laughing.

Stirring the pot on the stove, Lorelei couldn't fight the smile that broke out each time she caught Carmilla's eyes across the table where her partner was setting out the bowls and flatware for their meal.  Carmilla was keeping it light for her, able to see how much her father's growing illness was affecting her and doing everything in her power to make it easier for her to bear.

Lorelei caught Carmilla's wrist as she reached for glasses from the cupboard.  “I love you.”

Brown eyes blinked, close to her own, dark and deep.  Absolutely filled to the brim with feeling for her.  “Lorelei...”  The whisper of her name was a breath against her lips and her gaze dropped to the vampire's mouth for a split second.  It was enough.  Her head darted forward for a deep kiss, Carmilla welcoming her without hesitation.

Another second and she realized where they were and what they were doing, tearing herself away just as he father toddled around the corner from the other room.  

Once tall and strong, his aging frame carried itself as if the weight of life had bent his bones, leaving curves where there had once been solid limbs.  Lorelei dodged around Carmilla to fetch him, wiping her lips as surreptitiously as she was able.  The sensation of blunt teeth on her lower lip was still nearly physical.

“It smells delicious, darling.”  Her father kissed her cheek, patting her arm as she led him to his seat.

“Thank you, Papa.  Here we are.”  Carmilla was behind her with the pot of soup and a towel to avoid scarring the old wooden tabletop.  Lorelei served him while Carmilla stood by, patiently waiting.  She only smiled quietly and pulled the chair out for her girlfriend.  “Thank you.”

The meal started quietly, no one speaking, just the clink of spoons on porcelain and David slurping his soup.  “How was school?”  He asked it without looking up, still sipping from his spoon.

Lorelei sighed, head shaking.  “I'm working now.  At the paper.  You remember,” she tried to coax him.  “And Carmilla runs a club over -”

“A club?  You're much too young to be in any such place,” he denied, bleary eyed and frowning.

“I'm older than I look,” Carmilla said quietly.  So was Lorelei, for all that her father couldn't remember it.

“It's alright,” murmured Lorelei, reaching to cover his hand with her own.  “You just eat your soup and I'll get you ready for bed before we have to leave.”  Under the table Carmilla's hand was on her knee, fingertips drawing soft circles on skin just below the hem of her dress.  Lorelei set her spoon down to take her hand, lace their fingers, and squeeze.


	11. January 5, 1927 - Paris, France

It was snowing, heavy and fast.  Blanketing the entire city in a muffling field of white.  Everything felt hazy and distant through the falling snow.  There were no cars on the road, hardly any people walking.  But after days of pushing her supply of blood it had become necessary for Carmilla to leave the apartment.  Lorelei had offered herself and been flatly denied.  It was freezing out and the human needed every drop of her own blood where it was, warming her up.

Hungry as she was the cold was affecting her, fingers stiff as she unscrewed the lid off her meal.  Standing on the sidewalk a block from her source, Carmilla drank down half of it cold, needing to take the edge off her hunger.  She had enough in the bag to last for another week or so.  With the power intermittent from the storm there was no way to keep any blood she might bring home fresh for any longer than that.

It helped, the only slightly less cold than she was blood, but not as much as warmth would now.  Heat would get the blood moving and her body's circulatory system would keep it flowing.

Finishing her lengthy chug from the bottle, she twisted the cap back on what was left in the vessel.  Her breath was visible as she licked her lips.  Even cold she was satisfied for the moment.  The paper bag's contents clinked as she adjusted her hold, tucking icy hands into her jacket's pockets.

It was dark in the apartment building but Carmilla didn't need the light to climb the stairs.  Music was audible through their door, masking the sounds of conversation as well as the other various ways their neighbors had found to pass the time and keep warm.

Their place was filled with light in addition to the music, Lorelei dancing with a kind of sideways shimmy while she lit candles with the burning taper in her hand.

Struck silent by the vision before her, Carmilla leaned over to put her bag down on the floor just inside the door.  She pushed it closed behind her with her foot, moving forward as though being pulled.  Her jacket was unbuttoned and set aside without thought.  The soft thump of her boots on the rug were rendered inaudible beneath the music.

“Oh!”  Lorelei jumped when arms curled around her middle.  “I didn't hear you come in.”  Leaning back comfortably, her head fell against the vampire's shoulder.  Warm lips brushed her neck and Carmilla's chest rumbled with a feline purr.  “You're cold as ice!”

“It's snowing again,” Carmilla mumbled, nuzzling her head against honeyed hair and hoping the affectionate contact would continue.

Lorelei gasped, pulling away toward the window.  Not releasing her hold, Carmilla was towed along not unwillingly.  Discontent with not getting more attention, Carmilla took the neck-kissing initiative.  Watching the snow fall, Lorelei wriggled back into her.  “We need to get you warmed up,” she mused, her hands stroking the back of Carmilla's wrists.

“Yes,  _ we _ should,” agreed Carmilla, her voice muffled against Lorelei's shoulder.  “I have some ideas if you'd like suggestions.”

Laughing, Lorelei only swayed.  Carmilla's hands moved slowly, fingers lacing through hers.  Lips sucked below her ear and her breathing stuttered.  “I like the sound of that.”

Carmilla didn't hesitate.  The grip on Lorelei's hand made it simple to swing her around into a spin.  Her heart was still picking up its pace as she thawed out but Carmilla felt it skip at the sound of her love's delighted laughter.  Face to face when she caught her, Carmilla was smiling.  Lorelei surged forward to kiss her, throwing her arms around the vampire's neck.

Too quickly she tore herself away.  Grinning lips were flushed with the force of their kiss.  “Dance with me?” Lorelei asked, her fingers playing at the back of her vampire's neck.

Able to deny her not a thing, Carmilla could only reach for her hand and her hip.  She smiled back at her, setting their posture in the formal style her human mother had taught her before she'd been turned.  Back when she'd been a spoiled Countess.  Before her life had even really begun.

“That won't do,” murmured Lorelei, casting her eyes at the entirely proper space between them.  She took a step in, nodding approval when Carmilla's hands slipped further around her back.  “Much better.”

It was nice, swaying to the music while the snow outside created a world that felt like it was only for them.  Warm light from the candles played off the streaks of honey in Lorelei's hair.  Cool light from the reflecting ice through the window made her glow.  Perhaps that was just how it looked to Carmilla's eyes.  Everyone who knew Lorelei, they loved her.  Without exception.  But Carmilla was reasonably sure that it was just her own world that was so thoroughly lit up by Lorelei's presence.

Leaning in further, Lorelei's forehead found its place against her chest.  “This is not good form,” noted Carmilla idly.  Lorelei lifted her head, kissing her jaw lightly.  Carmilla spun her out, Lorelei adapting gracefully, and twirled her back in again.  The breathless smile she was greeted with was worth anything, everything.

Lorelei kissed her again, dragging it out.  Carmilla's arms hooked under her backside, hiking her up and against herself.  Lorelei pushed back before she was literally swept off her feet.  “Not yet,” she breathed against cold lips.  “I won't go to bed with an icicle.”  Carmilla whined even as she withdrew her hands.

The song ended and Lorelei pulled away to select another record, fighting off cold hands that clung to her sides.  Carmilla whined, making her laugh as she flicked through their collection of music with walking fingers.  Finding the one she wanted, Lorelei slipped the record from its album and set it carefully on the player.  She only got the crank wound before Carmilla was hauling her back in firmly and kissing the laughter from her lips.

The song started, more upbeat than the last, and Carmilla smirked into the kiss.  One eyebrow rose in a silent challenge.  “Shall we?” she offered, stepping back only to offer her hand.  As soon as Lorelei's fingers slipped across the plane of her palm Carmilla was turning her, dipping her.  Shrieking with laughter, Lorelei let her head fall back.  Her long hair had scarcely brushed the floor before she was being pulled up again.  Their steps fell naturally into a waltz, Carmilla's favorite.

They must have crossed the apartment a dozen times, spinning and dipping and jumping without stopping.  Even Carmilla was breathless by the time they spun to an end, the music replaced with the hiss of the phonograph's needle searching for a groove.  Pressed close against each other, neither made a move to replace it.

“You certainly feel warm enough now,” Lorelei breathed, teasing lightly.  A few of the candles had burned themselves out, leaving the apartment a mix of shadows and fire as what sunlight they'd had faded into pale night.

Carmilla grinned, nuzzling and sucking the faintest sweat from her lover's neck.  “Could always be warmer,” she grumbled against flesh.  She pulled another spot between her lips until she could feel the blood moving faster beneath the skin and knew there would be a mark.  Lorelei didn't protest, only weaved her fingers through tangled dark waves.

Satisfied with her unspoken approval Carmilla resumed her work, nipping with blunt human teeth.  The gasp it earned her made her smile as short nails dragged across her scalp in wordless encouragement.

The whole building seemed to hum as the power resumed all at once, the lamps around the room all snapping on and ruining the romantic atmosphere they'd been building.  Lorelei groaned, releasing Carmilla's hair in favor of shielding her eyes from the burst of light.

Grumbling, Carmilla dropped her face into the hollow between Lorelei's neck and shoulder.  Dropping a final kiss, she started to disengage from their embrace.

Lorelei pulled her back in before she could move too far off.  The kiss she gave her stole the breath from Carmilla's lungs.  The vampire had her against the wall in the next second, Lorelei's tongue licking between her teeth.  There was no hurry, the urgency still simmering.  Their result had been foregone since Carmilla had come through the door to find Lorelei dancing in candlelight.  There was no need to rush.

Breathing hard through her nose, Lorelei caught Carmilla's lower lip between her teeth as she leaned back.  It drew a needy groan from her partner that made her giggle.  She darted back in to kiss the pout from Carmilla's lip.  “You turn the lamps off and I'll meet you in the bedroom,” she proposed, biting her lip and bouncing on her toes.

Carmilla watched her dash off with a raised eyebrow.  It was less than a minute for her to blow out the candles, extinguish the lamps, and pitch her lover into their bed.


	12. December 23, 1928 - Paris, France

Carmilla had been able to sense it somehow.  Long before doctors had been able to detect anything.  It had been a painful, if quick, downward spiral from there.  Carmilla had been frantic and anxious and desperate.  Lorelei had been calm, accepting each setback with grace.

Enough was enough as far as Carmilla was concerned.

Having been keyed up for weeks now, it only took the three flights to their apartment to work herself into a rage.  Normally Lorelei could smile at her and draw her out of most foul mood but tonight even the sight of her pale and sweating could not make her back down.

The scent of death was everywhere and growing stronger.

“You're not going to make it.  Not unless you let me help.”  She was pleading, ready to beg as soon as she came through the door.  “It's simple, and it'll save you, and you won't let me!  You're going to lie there and make me watch you die!  I could kill you!”

Coughing, Lorelei shook her head weakly against the pillows she was propped up against.  “You won't.”  She patted the bed beside her but Carmilla kept moving, pacing and furious.  “Carm.”  The vampire shook her head, spinning and setting off on her next lap of the apartment.  “We've talked about this.”

“No, I've begged you to let me save you and you've said no!  That is not a discussion, Lorelei,” countered Carmilla, nearly growling.  Frustration took over and she charged the bed, growling and teeth bared.  It didn't have to be a bite, but couldn't be a natural death, not if the spell would be successful.

She hung up leaning over the bed with her teeth at her lover's throat.  She couldn't bite her, not if Lorelei didn't want to die this way.  They'd reached this same impasse a dozen times in the weeks since Lorelei's illness had been confirmed and every time it had gotten no further.  Carmilla would never force her to turn and Lorelei wouldn't choose the transition for herself.

“I don't want to live forever.”  The reminder was simple but cut like a knife.

“You know there are ways to be a vampire and still -” Carmilla tried again, retreating to resume her frenzied pacing.  The desperation felt like a rising tide in her chest, squeezing her lungs, her heart.  Organs that hadn't had a function until Lorelei had made her breath catch and heart skip again after ages of lying dormant between her ribs.

“You are not a monster,” Lorelei stated, quiet but with a core of steel in her voice.  “I know that.”  She couldn't fight another cough.  Her voice cracked on her next words.  “We got years together.”

“We could have lifetimes.”  

Lorelei continued if though she hadn't spoken, “I got more time with you than I ever could have hoped for.”  Watching Carmilla's movements with a fond smile, the next words came easier.  “I can't imagine all the things you've seen.  All the things you've lived through.  You're going to live through this.”

Carmilla was at the bed again in a blink, leaning over her with both hands fists in the pillow on either side of her body.  “Stop -”

“You'll find me again,” Lorelei whispered over any further objections.  Weak hands found the rigid forearms of her braced vampire and she gently stroked cool skin.  “I'll find you.”

“I love  _ you _ ,” Carmilla gasped out, head dropping to watch the hands moving up and down her arms.  “Lorelei -”

“And I love you.  More than you can imagine.  But I can't be what you are.  So I have to believe that whatever it is that makes me who I am, it will find you again in any life.”  One hand rose shakily to tangle in black hair, nails scratching gently at Carmilla's scalp in the way she knew would make her purr.

Slumping into her, though careful not to put extra weight on Lorelei's decimated frame, Carmilla's words were muffled against her shirt.  “I just want you.  Here, now.  With me.”  Lorelei's touch moved to cradle the back of her head, fingers rubbing at the tense muscle at the base of her skull.  “I'll do anything for you.”

“Then hold me,” requested Lorelei.  “Wait,” she said when Carmilla started to move.  “Kiss me first.”

She needed no further invitation, sitting up on her knees and taking Lorelei's face with both hands.  The kiss was soft, slow, and sweet.  Lorelei licked into her mouth when Carmilla would have held back, hands now on her back to grip her shirt.  Carmilla withdrew when she could hear Lorelei's heartbeat getting harder.  The hold on her shirt wasn't strong enough to keep her from moving.

Settling into the pillow beside her, Carmilla opened her arms.  “Come here.”  Warmth spread between them where they were pressed together but it was unnatural, feverish heat.  It made sweat break out at Carmilla's temples for the first time in a generation.  “I've got you,” she promised when Lorelei sighed against her chest.  Her own head dipped to rest against the silky strands of golden hair.

“Good.  This is good.  Can we just stay like this?”  Her voice was weaker, barely audible.

“Forever, love.”  Closing her eyes, Carmilla felt the tears break and roll from the corner of her eyes, dripping to be lost in the shadows between herself and Lorelei.

“Will you talk to me?  Until -”

Hushing her, Carmilla found that she could barely speak.  “Forever,” she repeated hoarsely.  The imminent smell of death was everywhere and Carmilla told herself that was why she struggled to breathe.  “Do you remember that morning on the roof of your old place?” she asked, keeping her voice low.  “We had been up all night, at the river after we left the club, and I walked you home across the bridge.  It was the first night you ever invited me in.”  She stroked her fingers through soft hair.  “I should have gone home because the sun was coming up.  But I've never been able to say no to you.  Not since from the first week I knew you.”

Lorelei chuckled hoarsely, eyes closed.  One hand played idly with the front of Carmilla's shirt over her stomach.

“You asked me to come in, so I stayed.  Your place was terrible, honestly, but you were so proud of it.”  She kissed Lorelei's temple softly, holding her that much closer.  “It had an amazing view though and you dragged me up to that roof.”

It had been their third date technically but those first few weeks they'd seen each other nearly every day so neither one had been keeping count.  They'd bypassed the bedroom in favor of the fire escape to the roof where they'd sat to watch the moon go down.  Carmilla, showing off, had walked along the top of the wall four stories up while Lorelei alternately couldn't watch and tried to pull her down, letting go with a shriek when Carmilla would go up on one foot.

By the time the sun had started to rise they'd been below the wall, leaning comfortably in the shadows.  Lorelei had just started work at the paper, making their schedules nearly exactly opposite.  Even the risk of daylight couldn't have driven Carmilla away.

Lorelei was making shadow puppets with the infant sunlight, lifting her arms over their heads.  The figures danced around their feet and Carmilla couldn't take her eyes off Lorelei.  She wouldn't say she missed the show at all, watching the first light of day dancing across the crown of her head.

“Nothing happened, though,” Lorelei whispered, drawing Carmilla back out of her memories.  “We went back inside and you fell asleep on the couch while I was making coffee.”

Carmilla smiled against her hair.  “I fell in love with you that night, I think.”  She heard Lorelei's breath catch, thick and shaky.  “I remember everything about that night with perfect clarity and I am pretty sure I always will.”

Lorelei's head was heavy as she leaned further into her, her breathing slower.  Carmilla's had stopped entirely.  She had minutes left with the woman she loved.  “Sweet talker.”  She took a ragged breath.  “Will you sing for me?”

“Forever.”  She could only manage to hum, unable to speak more.  Lorelei stretched up to touch her neck, her jaw.  Turning her head, Carmilla pressed a kiss against her wrist.  The pulse under her lips was stuttering.  She caught Lorelei's hand with her own before it could fall away when the slow beat stopped.


	13. April 15, 1951 - Amsterdam, Holland

At two hundred and seventy-one, Carmilla knew she had experienced a lot of things.  But the privilege of higher education was something she never took for granted after the three years she’d spent at Cambridge in the mid-eighteenth century as a man called Charles.  She had, in fact, gotten a little drunk on the idea since Lorelei’s death, burying herself in her studies and attending three universities over the past two decades, auditing some classes and completing one master’s degree.

Amsterdam was a break from academic rigmarole.  She casually audited a class here or there, but was mostly concentrating on her research into parapsychology and reincarnation mythology.  There had to be some kernel of truth in fairy tales and the various forms of spiritualism that had been so popular for much of the time she was trapped in the coffin.  When Lorelei made her way back to the world, Carmilla would be ready, or so she had promised herself.

She audited a class a semester and filled the rest of her time with her research and the small bookshop she’d opened on De Zeedijk, in the heart of the most well known gay section of the city.  The bookstore wasn’t the most monetarily lucrative of her legal business ventures – the club she hadn’t set foot in for over twenty years kept that title – but it occupied her interest and covered most of her expenses, enough to live more than comfortably without drawing on her other resources.  Mattie had taught her well how to make money without drawing too much attention to herself.

So as she closed down the store in time for the latest in a series of art history lectures – her slightly irregular business hours apparently added to the charm of her bookshop, or so she had been told – she locked the front door before swinging her bag over a shoulder and heading to the campus of a nearby art school, keeping to the long shadows of sunset. 

Mattie had instilled in her an interest and passion for the fine arts, her sister a longtime connoisseur, and sometimes patron, of them.  Carmilla generally considered music her favorite type of artistic expression, but enjoyed Mattie’s passion for painting and sculpture as well.  Unfortunately, the lecturer was a windbag and had a ridiculously narrow European focus, but at least the material and the slide shows were interesting. 

Carmilla slumped into her favored seat in the auditorium, pad at hand for any note taking, though she generally tuned out the lecture itself to study the projections.  As it was an art school, the slides were professionally taken photographs, many of them in color.  For that she would put up with the droning bore.  As the lights went down, signaling the beginning of the evening lecture, a girl with curly red hair plopped down next to Carmilla.  Between her leather jacket, dark jeans, and generalized glare, no one had ever sat next to her in the thinly-people auditorium before.  She had been free to kick her feet up, or sprawl across several seats.

The woman pulled out a notebook and began scribbling as the lecturer began, and kept scribbling – with breaks to sketch along the edges of the notes – for the entire hour and a half slideshow.  Carmilla would have been more annoyed if the sketches weren’t incredibly good.

As the lights came up at the end of the lecture, the woman smiled at Carmilla.  “You were supposed to pay attention to the slides,” she remarked, gently rebuking, with a slight English accent to her fluent Dutch.

Carmilla couldn’t help the flirtatious grin she gave, replying in English, “Well, sweetheart, there’s a difference between looking at the past, and watching the future emerge.”

The woman laughed as she packed up her things and switched languages as well, “You’re incorrigible.  And moderately cute.  If I hadn’t already found the love of my life, I might have considered taking you up on your offer.”

“Oh, it wasn’t an offer.  It was a promise.”  Carmilla smirked.

“I’m sure it is.  But I’m quite happy as is.  However, I could use a friend in this class.  The prof’s a wet rag.”  She held out a hand.  “I’m Perry.”

“Carmilla.”  She took the proffered hand and pressed a brief kiss to the top.

“You’re charming.  It won’t work on me, though.”

“You’re going steady, I get it.  I’m no homewrecker.”  Carmilla held up her hands in mock defeat, amused.  “But if you get tired of going steady, I work at The Violet on De Zeedijk.”

“Ah, that’s where you look familiar from.  We were in there, a few months ago.  Nice shop,” Perry remarked with a grin.

Carmilla’s smirk widened.  “Stop by again someday.  Maybe I can show you both a good time.”  She winked at Perry, before shouldering her bag and making her way out of the lecture hall, her classmate’s bright laughter following her out.

That night Carmilla wandered through the streets of Amsterdam without a real plan as to where she was going.  As long as she got back to her apartment above the bookshop before daylight, she was free to mosey along in peace.  The handful of ruffians who had attempted, once or twice, to accost her for either her money or more sinister purposes had found themselves dead in the canals quickly. 

She had liked strolling with Lorelei through the streets of Paris.  Like Paris, Amsterdam had a vibrant nightlife, if you stayed out of the “respectable” sections of town.  And Carmilla surely had few reasons to frequent the respectable areas.  So with her hands stuffed in the pockets of her jeans, leather jacket warm around her in the cool night, she strolled.

Vampire hearing meant she picked up on the fight nearly a mile before she reached it.  She’d overheard fights before, kept walking and ignored them, but the slurs one side seemed to be shouting riled her anger up.  A growl sounded in her chest as she started to run.  She heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and the jeering get louder.  By the time she could see the fight, she saw two people with red hair on one side, and a gang of men on the other, shouting slurs as they attacked the outnumbered redheads.  She squinted – one seemed to be the girl with the curly hair who had responded so well to her flirting after class earlier that night, and the other had their dark red hair in what was likely a perfect D.A. before the brawl began, wearing a drape jacket, shiny oxfords, and jeans already torn in the scuffle.

None of them had noticed her approach so she bolted forward, her panther’s bounds eating up the remaining distance until she reached the fray.  She bared her teeth and hissed, using her body to bowl over half the men at once.  Carmilla positioned herself in front of the two redheads and let out her fiercest growl. 

Drunk and clumsy, a couple took off at the sight of a large panther in the street.  She swiped at the nearest man, her sharp claws leaving tears in his jacket and digging deep into his chest.  He howled, sinking to his knees in shock.  She lashed out at another man, sinking her teeth into his arm as he swung at her and then pulling him to the ground in a senseless heap.  A third got a lucky swipe with his knife before her claws pierced his jugular.  The last tried to get around her, towards the red-headed pair, reeking of booze and anger, before she reared up and used her weight to shove him to the ground from behind.  She then proceeded to use him as a scratching post, digging her claws deep into his flesh, before using all her strength for a fatal blow.

She stepped daintily off his corpse and surveyed her work.  Except for the two smarter – or more cowardly – ones who had fled, the gang was dismembered, in some cases literally.  She turned to the two people she’d intervened for.  They were still there, huddled against a wall, the one in the drape jacket leaning woozily as Carmilla’s classmate tried to support their friend.  Carmilla cocked her head, studying the pair.  No, they were far more than friends.  As a panther she could smell it.  Their scents were all over one another in a way platonic friends rarely accomplished.  And as a human she could easily read their body language, the tenderness and love obvious to anyone who looked.  The woozy one must be the love of her classmate’s life.

Carmilla flicked her paws one by one, dislodging the flesh stuck in them as she thought about what to do.  She wasn’t about to leave them alone on the street for the dregs of the gang to resurface, and having them by so many corpses probably wasn’t a bright idea if someone came along.  She cocked her ears, listening intently.  People in their houses, the creak of boats in the canals nearby, but no one nearby that she could hear or sense.

In a sinewy movement, her body shifting and changing, the huge black panther was a small woman, hands covered in human blood, teeth in desperate need of a floss.  Her classmate gaped at her, while a cheery, muddled smile spread across the other’s face, a huge bruise already discoloring their face and blood pouring from a scalp laceration.  “You need to get off the street.  Where do you live?”  When a full minute had passed and they both stood speechless, she growled, doing a fair impression of her panther.  “Come on,” she said to her classmate as she scooped their partner into her arms. 

They must have been a strange sight, scurrying through the streets until they were at her bookshop.  She set her classmate’s partner down so she could pull out her keys, and once the door was unlocked she lifted them up again before starting up the stairs, her classmate trailing mindlessly behind. 

She set her burden down at a kitchen chair, carefully leaning them against the scuffed wooden table.  Then she turned to her classmate, “What’s your name again?”

Wide eyes met her own.  “Perry.  I’m Perry.”

“What’s the loopy one’s name?”

“They’re LaFontaine.”

“Okay, well, LaFontaine probably has a concussion, and definitely needs to see that head wound tended to, so why don’t you get keep them awake and I’m gonna go see if I have anything to deal with that.”  Carmilla rolled her eyes, unsure why she’d bothered to bring these two to her apartment.  But it was nice to have company.  Company that wasn’t the occasional stress relief she brought home for a night and kicked out before dawn.  And she wasn’t so much of an asshole to leave two shell-shocked queers on the street beside a pile of corpses she’d made, especially as one of them had made her laugh so brightly earlier in the day.  She shrugged to herself, and dug around in the bathroom for a band-aid or something to deal with the blood that poured down LaFontaine’s face.  It was making her hungry, and she didn’t think snacking on her guest would go over well.

With a damp cloth and paltry first-aid kit in hand, she returned to her kitchen, to find Perry setting the kettle on the hob, three mugs next to it.  Perry fluttered forward when she caught sight of what Carmilla carried, claiming them to tend to LaFontaine.  When their face was cleaned up and bandaged, and a bit of ice from the freezer wrapped in a towel pressed against the worst of the emerging bruises, Perry turned to Carmilla.

“Now you,” she said, gesturing to the second chair at the table.  One of Carmilla’s eyebrows crawls up towards her hairline before the pain in her side asserted herself.  The knife wound.  She glanced down at her torso, seeing the blood coming through her torn shirt.  Slipping off her jacket – thankfully unmarred by the man’s knife – she slid into a chair as she unbuttoned her shirt and let Perry approach.

Perry was efficient and tender as she pulled back Carmilla’s shirt to see the wound, though she sucked in a surprised breath at the lack of a bra underneath.  LaFontaine, still dazed, was less subtle, but Carmilla found their dopey grin amusing and distracting while Perry dabbed at the knife wound on her torso.  Within a few minutes it was cleaned and covered, and Perry had wound bandages around her body to keep the thick gauze in place.

Nodding her thanks, Carmilla rose from the table to switch her torn, bloody shirt for a clean one.  When she got back to the kitchen, Perry was fussing over LaFontaine and were drinking hot tea.  Her stomach rumbling and the scent of blood still in the air, she resigned herself to the steaming cup Perry had fixed for her.

Except as she raised it to her lips, she could see and smell that it wasn’t the strong black tea the two mortals were sipping.  Instead it was blood mixed with hot water until it was near body temperature.  She studied her guests, Perry still fluttering around LaFontaine, encouraging them to sip carefully at what was actual tea.  And then she remembered her blood was still in the glass bottle from the hospital, sitting in her refrigerator.  She studied the pair before her, impressed.

“I can move them to the sofa if you think that would help,” she remarked.

Perry looked up at her and smiled.  “That would, I think.  If you don’t mind us staying for a bit, until they’ve gotten a bit more lucid.”

She shrugged.  “Would have been pointless to intervene if you just get jumped again on your way home.”  And then set down her mug to carefully lift LaFontaine onto the battered sofa.  She disappeared into her bedroom and came back with a single pillow, offering it to Perry who tucked it behind her partner’s head as LaFontaine settled in.

“Perr saw the blood in your refrigerator,” they offered helpfully, voice floaty and disoriented.  “You’re a vampire, right?  Super strong, has blood instead of club soda or milk in the fridge, turns into an animal?  ‘s pretty cool.”

Carmilla barked out a laugh.  “Yeah.”

“Neato.  Thanks, y’know, for saving us.”

“It’s very much appreciated,” Perry added, passing Carmilla her warmed-up blood.

“Not my normal nighttime stroll, but I wasn’t going to let cretins get up to shit like that,” Carmilla demurred, shifting uncomfortably under their thankful looks to sip at her blood.

Sensing her discomfort, Perry changed the subject, “So, were you around during the Hague School?  Because you must have some opinions on the movement if you were there, and I’m quite sure Professor de Graaf is full of shit.”

Carmilla shook her head, amazed at these two mortals taking her existence in stride.  Though she supposed shock was working in her favor for once.  “I wasn’t in Amsterdam, if that’s what you’re asking, but yes, he is.”

As Perry went off regarding art history, she kept a close eye on a dozing LaFontaine, and Carmilla argued with her classmate for the sake of arguing.  In that way, the night passed easily for the three of them.


	14. September 5, 1953 - Amsterdam, Holland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has one of my favorite endings - L

Amsterdam had been Mattie's choice for their latest sister European tour but it had been years since her big sister had moved along to one of her many ventures and Carmilla was still there.  It wasn't like she had anywhere better to go until the next sacrifice.  There were museums and nightlife, a university if she got bored.

At the very least the campus was a useful hunting ground for picking up dinner now that the semester was starting up again.  She'd survived the summer sipping on whichever single girl she found at last call each night.

The waterway provided a nice musical accompaniment to her more morose thoughts.  She hadn't been alone, exactly, since the twenties.  That would be pathetic.  She dated, casually, actually had friends.  She wasn't alone but she was lonely.

Giggling from across the street didn't make her look up, kicking her heels on the wall along the water.  The two girls quieted down when they spotted her, a tall redhead with an arm wrapped around a shorter girl in a jacket.  They crossed the street at the crosswalk in her direction, chattering and laughing.

She thought they'd passed her as the noise quieted but the crunch of grass underfoot told her otherwise.  “I'm sorry, but are you alright?”  

The voice was soft so Carmilla tried to temper her urge to lash out.  She just wanted to be left alone.  “Yeah, I'm fine.”

“Laurel, come on,” called another voice from a further distance.  “She says she is okay and I've got to get you back to your room.”

“I'm coming.”  She hesitated though and Carmilla looked up.  Her gaze caught on brown eyes, flecked with green.  She was a pretty girl, early twenties, brown hair pulled back in a ponytail.  She was no one Carmilla had ever seen before but something inside her jumped to sudden attention.  Something that had been sleeping awoke.  “Just – be careful?”

Frowning, Camilla nodded.  She was running late to meet LaFontaine anyway and not overly fond of introspection.  “Don't worry about me, cupcake.”

The two were well up the sidewalk before she climbed to her feet, distracted now by her own cavalier nickname.  It was something she'd always done with Lorelei and she felt a pang.  She wasn't trying to mope, had dated, but the fact remained that she  _ missed _ her.

She tousled her hair with a hand, shaking it off as best she could.  The night was young.  She was going to see her friends and they'd have a good time.  Nothing quite up to Mattie's standards, of course, but she could live with that.

LaFontaine and Perry weren't big drinkers, preferred a more sedate evening, so Carmilla made sure there was a book in the pocket of her jacket before she set off to the coffeehouse.  Moonlight lit her way even as the streetlights started to snap on.

Spotting her friends as she came through the door, Carmilla joined the two redheads at their table, slumping into her own chair.  “Welcome, sunshine,” Lafontaine greeted her sarcastically.  Carmilla rolled her eyes, already digging in her pocket for her book.  “Girl troubles?  Did that girl from the museum track you down?”

“No,” groused Carmilla, flipping to find her page without looking at them.

“LaFontaine, hush,” Perry chided them, pointed gaze making it clear that Carmilla had been included in the warning.  “Carmilla, will you have something to drink?”

Her friends both knew what she was, making the question all the more amusing.  “Thanks, but I'm fine.”  It was the same answer she'd given the girl at the channel.  For all that she'd only met her for a few moments she couldn't get the encounter out of her head.

“I know that look,” said LaFontaine with a laugh, leaning over to get a closer look at Carmilla behind her book.  The vampire simply lifted her novel that much higher.  “You met a girl!  What's her name?”

“Shut up,” grumbled Carmilla.

Perry tutted, setting a cup of black coffee in front of Carmilla.  “It's none of our concern if she met someone,” she reminded her own partner.  Perry and LaFontaine had been together practically forever already and Carmilla was sure they'd make it last until the other end of eternity.

“Per, she's -”

“What was her name, sweetie?” interjected Perry softly.  She spoke so compassionately that Carmilla felt her throat go thick.  “The one you loved?”

Despite herself, Carmilla answered, “Lorelei.”

Jaw closing with a click of teeth, LaFontaine leaned forward.  “I'm sorry.  I didn't know.”  Their brows drew down and Perry rubbed their shoulders absentmindedly.  “She was human?”  Carmilla nodded shortly.  “Whoa.”

Silence fell over the table for an extended moment, a pocket of noiseless atmosphere in the otherwise crowded shop.  The door was pushed open before two women, fondly bickering.  “I told you I was thirsty, Daniella,” said the shorter one as she walked in under the extended arm of the tall redhead holding the door for her.

“I assumed you'd have something in your room besides pop, Laurel,” she countered, the warm affection positively dripping from her voice.  “Now, hurry up.  It's late and it's cold.”

Carmilla didn't mean for it to happen but her head popped up, eyes tracking the girl who'd approached her at the channel.  She was laughing, tucking hair that had slipped its binding behind her ear, and Carmilla felt like a creep.  There was no reason for her to be looking at that girl.  Except for some feeling that she couldn't shake, some familiarity, almost recognition.  She didn't know this girl beyond having encountered her twice in the same evening.  Uncommon, perhaps, but not anything to alert her senses.

“Maybe I do want a drink,” said Carmilla, standing up and putting her book blindly on the table.  She narrowly missed soaking the pages in the cooling coffee Perry had gotten her.

Joining the queue behind the now quiet couple, Carmilla tucked her hands in her pockets and tried deliberately not to look at Laurel.  Laurel was under no such restraints, moving constantly, turning from side to side, and bouncing on her toes.  Rocking back a little clumsily on one such cycle, she managed to step on Carmilla's boot.

The vampire and tall ginger girlfriend both reacted, with supernatural reflexes the victor.  Carmilla caught her ably.  “Watch out,” she said, more softly than she'd meant to.

“Laurel, are you okay?”

Straightening upright, Laurel held onto the sleeve of Carmilla's leather jacket for a beat too long to still be balancing.  “Sorry, thank you.”  Stammering, she stumbled again, caught this time by her girlfriend.  “Sorry,” she said again, smiling.  “It's you,” she realized aloud.

“Safe and sound,” Carmilla agreed, tucking her hands deliberately in the back pockets of her jeans.  The pads of her fingers felt almost itchy where they'd touched the other girl.  “I'm Carmilla,” she offered.  “Since I didn't say that earlier.”  She didn't reach to shake hands.  She had to blink back the vision of leaning over Lorelei's hand, kissing her skin the first time they'd ever met.  Even further down in her gut was Ell.

“Oh, I'm Laurel and this is my girlfriend, Daniella.”  The tall ginger nodded in greeting, her arms still protectively holding Laurel.  “Are you – we could sit together?”

“Oh, I'm actually -”  “We were leaving though -”  Carmilla and Daniella made their excuses nearly simultaneously.

“I'm sure I'll see you around,” offered Carmilla almost hopefully.  She could have hit herself but Daniella was already glaring, giving her an immediate urge to preen instead.  Inclining her head sent dark hair forward across her eyes rakishly.  

Laurel merely blinked, eager smile wide.  “That would be wonderful!  Are you a student here?”

“I'll be around.”  She winked just for the pleasure of hearing Daniella grumble under her breath.

“Our drinks are up, babe.”  One arm slipped across Laurel's shoulders, subtly guiding her away from the smirking vampire.

Waving, Laurel just grinned.  “Good night!  It was nice to meet you!”

Their table was nearly as far across the place as someone could sit.  Carmilla didn't resist the urge to strut back to her own seat with her friends.

“She's watching you,” confirmed LaFontaine happily.  “So, who's that?  Her girlfriend certainly doesn't seem to like you very much.”

“We just met earlier.”  Carmilla shrugged.  “It's a small world, I guess.”

She knew exactly how vast the world actually was though.  Being her mother's daughter, she knew precisely how many strings had to be pulled to arrange just such a meeting as the one she'd had tonight.  It took work and precision and carefully laid plans to get people where she needed them to be.  It wasn't as if the universe was all that prone to coincidence either.  Not in her centuries of experience.

Fidgeting with her book, Carmilla risked a look across the cafe.  Laurel smiled as soon as their eyes met and something about the way the corner of her mouth curled just ever so slightly higher on the right than the left sent a tremor through her stomach.  There was  _ something _ about this girl that she couldn't quite place and most assuredly couldn't shake.

_ “You'll find me again.” _  A whisper in the back of her mind made her entire body feel suffused with heat and just as suddenly doused with icy coldness.

There was no way.  She was just lonely and pathetic and missing the girl she loved.  There was no way she'd actually found Lorelei's next life.

Conversation flowed around her without reaching her, leaving Carmilla an eddy in a stream.  She looked tranquil on the outside, chuckling at LaFontaine's most recent experiment mishap, outright laughing at Perry remonstrating them, but internally she was spinning, mind filled with flashes of Lorelei, even older, more faded memories of Ell, all overlaid on the living entity of Laurel across the shop.

It became easier to imagine that it was all in her head, loneliness and love making her see what she wanted, once Daniella had pulled Laurel out of the shop and away from lingering eyes.  Lorelei wouldn't leave her mind, however, making focus nearly impossible.

“Carmilla.”

Attention jumped back to the present when LaFontaine snapped their fingers beneath her nose.  For show Carmilla snapped her teeth right back at them.

“Okay, so like I was saying – we're going to go home.”  They pinned her with a look.  “Do you need a place to stay or are you going to do your vanish into the night thing?”

“Vanish,” Carmilla answered, standing up and draining the last of her cold coffee.  “I'll see you tomorrow night for that lecture.”

“Deal.”

“Be safe,” Perry said, leaning over to kiss her cheek lightly.  Perry was the only human capable of doing so and they all knew it.

“Night,” she murmured, brushing her mouth against Perry's cheek in return.

Walking home alone, Carmilla felt the memories rising inexorably as a tide in her mind – Ell, Lorelei – golden hair, hazel eyes.  The way she'd smiled when they'd kissed.  How she would bounce on her toes when she was happy or excited.  The whimper against her lips when she needed just  _ more _ to send her into bliss.

Carmilla stopped abruptly on the sidewalk, motionless in an instant.  Around her the night was still.  The apartments lining the street were dark but her extra-natural predator abilities could pick up on things that ordinary humans had no chance of hearing, seeing, or smelling.

The lust was wafting through an open window on a breeze, the moans, groans, and grunts of earnest effort a soft serenade so quiet as to nearly escape notice.

That wasn't what had Carmilla Karnstein frozen with a mixture of anticipation and knowledge that made her stomach roll in direct opposition to the rest of her body.

She  _ knew  _ these noises.  Knew them and felt them as some part of herself even more integral than the pulse she no longer needed.  She'd brought Lorelei to make these sounds.  And every time before the edge of orgasm, the gasping groan of her name had hit a resonance that echoed like church bells inside her chest.

“Dan-iella!”  Her breath caught on the name as she peaked, Laurel's voice bouncing and magnifying through Carmilla's head.

Son of a bitch.


	15. September 18, 1953 - Amsterdam, Holland

Being her mother's lackey for so long had given Carmilla more than adequate skills at tracking and observation.  She'd had to learn to get in with the marks for the sacrifice.  She’d gotten very good at it, at finding a way into people’s lives.

She needed none of it to find Laurel.

The girl was everywhere.

Early morning at the museum, Laurel was there admiring a Monet.

Lunch after Perry's class in a shadowed bistro, Laurel was two tables away eating scones in the middle of the afternoon.

Nights, nearly every night, she caught sight of her wherever she was – dancing at a club, drinking coffee at midnight, every debate and lecture LaFontaine dragged her to.

If the universe had wanted her convinced, she was.  Everything she loved about Lorelei was right there in front of her.  In a girl who barely knew she existed and already had a girlfriend that all of Carmilla's observation indicated that Laurel cared about, possibly loved.

“This is stupid.”

“You've been all mopey for two weeks and I'm sick of it,” LaFontaine declared, holding up the vampire's leather jacket by the shoulders.  “Put it on and let's go.  Perr is waiting for us.”

“I didn't tell Perry I'd be anywhere,” reasoned Carmilla, shrugging and settling herself more comfortably.  Reclined on her own bed was likely the only place in the whole of Amsterdam where she wouldn't encounter Laurel Harris.  So what if she'd barely left her place in three days.

“No, but I accepted for you and it would be rude to make me a liar.”

“That's too bad.”

“You're my ride,” LaFontaine tried again.  “And I'm sure you've read that book a dozen times.  What are you hiding from, exactly?”  Carmilla didn't answer, turning the page idly.  “Is it a girl?”

“You wouldn't understand even if I told you,” Carmilla groused.  “Let it go.”

“Now that I know there's something to tell?  No way.”  When Carmilla didn't move LaFontaine shoved her legs over with both hands and scrambled onto the bed with her.  “Spill it.”

Carmilla sighed, shaking her head.  “It's nothing.  Forget I said anything.”

“Not happening,” LaFontaine answered instantly.  “Talk to me.  How bad can it be?  I mean, I already know you're undead.”  They frowned.  “Did you kill someone and now their family is out for revenge?  Is that why you're hiding in here?”  Blue eyes scanned her messy bedroom critically.  “This place isn't very secure, you know.”

“That's not -”  Carmilla growled, sound rumbling in her chest.  “I haven't killed anyone in a long – a while.”

“You don't have to defend yourself to me,” they laughed.  “I think I could fortify those windows though.  Since you're not such a fan of the sunlight and everything.”

“I do not need bars on my windows,” Carmilla stated.  Her eyes rolled.  “I'm avoiding a girl, okay?”

LaFontaine sat up straighter, grinning.  “So how many times have you slept with her and how much does her girlfriend or boyfriend want to kill you?”

Smiling despite herself, Carmilla answered, “I haven't slept with her.  Her girl doesn't like me much though.”  She'd rarely seen Laurel without her Daniella in the last two weeks.  If the universe had convinced her that she'd indeed found her Lorelei again then it was just as determined to show her that she'd found her too late.

“So what are you going to do about it?”

Shaking her head in denial sent hair falling across her eyes.  She didn't bother to push it back.  “It's not about that.  I want her to be happy.”

LaFontaine went still, blinking.  “Whoa.  So you're really in love with this girl.”

“It's her.”  Carmilla's head came up to meet their eyes.  “Lorelei.  It's her.”

Confused, LaFontaine scratched their short red hair with one hand.  The other fell to Carmilla's wrist in a gesture of support.  “Honey, she's gone.”

“I know that,” said Carmilla easily.  “I told you it doesn't make any sense.  But I've lived a long time.  I've seen a lot of things that simply aren't rational.”

“Try me.”

“Reincarnation.  It's real.  Everyone lives and dies and does it all over again.”  Carmilla tried not to sound bitter.  “Everyone but vampires.”

LaFontaine was still taking it in, busy mind working, eyes jumping as they figured out logistics.  “So you're immortal but you're  _ you _ the whole time.  But everyone else has... cycles, or something?”

“Pretty much how it works,” Carmilla drawled, breathing deep.  “As far as I can tell, anyway.  Laurel is Lorelei's next life.  I'm sure of it.  But she's with someone so I'm going to stay out of her way.”

Loud laughter made her jump.  “Dude, if someone else was with Perry you better believe I wouldn't just be sitting around reading.  Fight for your girl!”

Carmilla smiled even as she shook her head.  “She's happy.  I've seen her pretty much everywhere I go this last week and she's happy.  I can't mess it up.”

“Even if she's supposed to be with you?”

“She's supposed to be happy.   Whatever that means, I have to give it to her.”  Even if she spent the next fifty years in this room and Laurel lived the rest of her life with Daniella.  “Maybe I'll find her again.”  Her smile was sad.  “I've got time.”

LaFontaine's expression screwed up in a grimace.  “That is depressing.  Crazy depressing.  I need a Perry hug right now.”  Making a decision, they slid off the foot of the bed and stood up.  “Come on.”

“I told you I'm not going.”

“And I say you are,” they countered.  “Do whatever you think you've got to do for Laurel, but you're not just going to stew in your room while we're around.  So you're going to get up and put your jacket on and give me a ride to meet Perry.  We'll have a nice time and I promise you won't see Laurel once.  Okay?”  When Carmilla only shrugged they reached forward to grab both of the vampire's ankles.  “Wrong answer.”

Not really thinking her friend would bodily pull her to the floor, Carmilla did nothing to stop it until it was too late and she'd sprawled ass-first into the hardwood of her bedroom floor.  She was on her feet in a second, angrily growling in LaFontaine's face the next.

They weren't particularly impressed, just held out the leather jacket again.  “Hush and put this on.  We're running late now.”  When they refused to back down Carmilla snatched the jacket and jerked it on.  “That's progress,” they said with an air of smug satisfaction.

“Keep talking and you're walking,” grumbled Carmilla, her boots stomping as she passed her friend and charged out the door.  LaFontaine didn't argue, just scrambled to catch up.

Her motorcycle was an Indian left over from the war that she'd rebuilt nearly from the ground up.  Perry hated its entire existence.  So when they pulled up to the curb and LaFontaine climbed off the back, they were already trying to explain away the frown from their girlfriend's face.  “She made us late being pathetic over a girl!  We had to drive or we'd have missed the whole thing!”

Perry merely hummed her displeasure.  “I'm relieved to see you both in one piece.”  One arm slipped through LaFontaine's, reassuring that they were right there and not about to hurl themselves into the street in front of a bus.  “A bike accident would be -” her tongue clicked, “terrible.  Just terrible.”

“This is a motorcycle.  But don't worry.  They're fine,” Carmilla reminded her, shaking her hair out of the matted mess her helmet made out of it.  LaFontaine was still wearing theirs and she reached out to knock her knuckles against it in reminder.  “What are we doing here anyway?  I didn't hear over all the 'being pathetic.'”

“There's beer,” noted LaFontaine.

“I'm sold.”  Shaking her head, Perry lead the way after Carmilla tucked her keys away in her pocket and pulled up the zipper on her jacket, covering up the bloodstain on her white shirt that she'd only just noticed after leaving the house.

Excited to show off the art installation she'd brought them to, Perry pulled LaFontaine off while Carmilla was still waiting on the foam head to settle on her beer, absently watching the bubbles dance through golden amber liquid.

“Here you are again.”  The voice made her throat go dry and Carmilla turned slowly to face a grinning Laurel.  “Have you noticed that?  I've seen you everywhere lately.”  She gripped the shoulder strap on her bag.  “Do you think maybe that means we're supposed to know each other?”

Carmilla's voice was hoarse and she grimaced.  “Yeah, maybe.”  It was torture, standing right in front of Laurel, seeing everything in her that was part of the core of who she was as a person, even the small trivial things that were just physical, growing more intrigued by the moment, and being able to do nothing.

“Well, are you here alone?  Maybe we could walk through the exhibit together?” Laurel suggested, rocking from heel to toe and making Carmilla's toes curl in her boots.

Unsure she could speak, Carmilla only nodded.

“Swell!”

It was too much for her unbeating heart to take and Carmilla took a half step forward.  She wanted nothing more than to drop her beer in the grass, put both hands on her face, and kiss her until she remembered everything.  Her life with Lorelei, it hadn't been Laurel's though.  She didn't know Carmilla at all.

The invitation and friendly smile at least seemed like she'd like to get to know her.  Carmilla had always had a bit of a masochistic streak, so she nodded for Laurel to take the lead.  Yards ahead of them she saw LaFontaine and Perry clearly watching but ignored them in favor of listening to Laurel's eager ramble about the artist's work she was leading her toward.

It took real effort not to drain her beer immediately, leave to get another, and never come back.  Carmilla sipped on it slowly instead, deliberately keeping it safely in whichever hand was closest to taking Laurel's, consequences be damned.

For all the torment, Carmilla wanted her night to go on forever.  Laurel was a delight – quick and funny, opinionated, brash.  Spending time with her was like having air back in her lungs.  The art installation went until midnight but it didn't end their evening, the two wandering the park in the light of a nearly full moon, talking the whole time.  Before either one knew it the entire night had passed.

“I can't believe I stayed out all night.”  Laurel was hugging her sweater closer around her, hands rubbing up and down her arms.  Carmilla unzipped her jacket but Laurel shook her head quickly.  “Don't.  It's too cold out.”

Ignoring her, Carmilla continued to shrug out of the warm leather.  Laurel stopped her with both hands over hers.  “Creampuff -”

Laurel's face twitched in surprise at the nickname but she shook her head.  “I won't let you freeze for me.”

“I'd do worse,” muttered Carmilla under her breath as she defiantly unwound the scarf from around her neck.  “At least take this,” she insisted, looping it over Laurel's shoulders and tugging it to snug it into place.  Her hands gripped the scarf for a beat too long, staring straight into Laurel's eyes.

“Thank you,” Laurel breathed, not moving closer but not moving away either.

Realizing exactly how closely they were standing when Laurel's chest brushed hers with her next breath, Carmilla rocked back.  “Let me give you a ride.  I'm not taking no for an answer,” she said when Laurel opened her mouth to argue.

She smiled instead, ducking her chin into Carmilla's scarf and breathing deep.  “Thank you.”

It was a short walk to where her bike was still parked and Laurel didn't hesitate to clamber onto the back behind Carmilla.  Fortunately there was no way Laurel could see the way her jaw went slack when she wound her arms around the vampire's waist.

Carmilla had composed herself by the time they pulled up in front of the apartment Laurel indicated.  Of course, she had already recognized it.  Thankfully the windows were closed tonight.

Laurel dismounted and Carmilla followed, leaning against the motorcycle with her arms crossed.  Laurel fidgeted with her helmet for a few seconds before handing it back.  “Thank you for the ride.  It was very kind of you.”  She rocked on her toes, burying her face in the scarf again.  Carmilla kept both of her hands on the helmet to keep herself still.  “I had an amazing night.”

“Me too.”  Carmilla's voice was hoarse.  She cleared her throat but her mouth was dry.

“Maybe we could go to another show sometime,” Laurel suggested.

Carmilla coughed.  “Yeah, maybe.”

“Do you want a drink?” asked Laurel considerately.  “You could come up -”

The helmet in her hands nearly cracked in half under the pressure between her palms.  “That's not a good idea.”  She shook her head.  “I'll make sure you get inside safe, but from out here.”

Laurel's smile was sweet, crinkling her eyes at the corners.  “Thank you.”  Stepping forward, she leaned in and kissed Carmilla's cheek lightly.

It was too much for her already strained self-control.  Carmilla dropped the helmet in favor of seizing the thin wool of Laurel's sweater, pulling her in and turning her head to meet her lips.  Laurel sighed against her mouth, caught off guard by the kiss, but pulled back, breathless after only a short second.

“I'm sorry,” Carmilla gasped, releasing her immediately.  “I didn't – I'm sorry.”  She couldn't look at Laurel, just leaned over to get the discarded helmet.  She fumbled it and groaned as she had to retrieve it again.

“Stop,” Laurel said quickly.  “I didn't – I'm not -”

Carmilla's hair was hanging in her face and she made no move to uncover her embarrassment.  “I know.  I'm a screw up.  You're -”

“I like spending time with you, Carmilla,” Laurel cut in gently.  One thumb carefully wiped at her lip and Carmilla wanted to melt into the concrete.  “I'm sorry if we had some kind of misunderstanding, truly I am, but I don't want this to mess us up.”  She smiled hopefully when Carmilla peeked up at her through her hair.  “I want very much to be your friend.”  Laurel licked her lips.  “If you think it's possible.”

Carmilla felt her eyes get caught on Laurel's mouth but she forced herself to blink.  It would be easier to end this right here and now.  She'd given herself an out, even.  Laurel would live her life and not think twice about the girl she'd spent one evening with.  It wouldn't matter to her that Carmilla had fallen in love with her all over again.  Laurel had Daniella and was happy.  That was what mattered.  That was  _ all _ that mattered.

That didn't stop Carmilla from nodding her head.  “Of course we can be friends.”


	16. October 20, 1954 - Amsterdam, Holland

Since bumping into Carmilla and Laurel at the coffeeshop, their first official introduction to Carmilla’s new  _ friend _ , Perry had been fairly quiet.  Gregarious LaFontaine, always ready to make a new friend, had carried most of the conversation, asking Laurel about her studies and her hobbies and even about Daniella, as Carmilla shifted uncomfortably beside them.  The group had eventually split, Carmilla walking Laurel home, and LaFontaine and Perry to their apartment for a late dinner.

Being friends with a vampire had certainly shifted their habits towards the nocturnal.  It was nearing nine at night when Perry finished making their pea soup.  As she pulled down bowls to serve into, they clattered on the counter.  “Damn it!” she said, her shoulders tensing.

“Perr?”  She could feel LaFontaine hovering behind her as she leaned with her palms flat against the countertop.

“I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.”

The hovering turned to a warmth at her back as LaFontaine slipped their arms around her waist and nuzzled into her shoulder.  “What is it?” they murmured.

“It’s Carmilla.  And Laurel,” she said, frustration obvious in her voice.

“What about them?”

“Reincarnation?  Really?  Carmilla believes that Laurel is this Lorelei she lost.  Her entire friendship with Laurel is based on it.  She’s  _ in love _ with her.”  Perry huffed angrily.  “It’s not normal.”

LaFontaine squeezed her into a hug, pressing a kiss to Perry’s shoulder.  “Are you forgetting Carmilla is a vampire, Perr?  Nothing about this situation could be called normal.”

“I know that!  I can’t forget that Carmilla is a vampire.  But reincarnation?  Soulmates?  Destiny?  I don’t like it.  It takes the choice away from us.”  Perry shuddered.

“You don’t like the idea that we find the people in our lives again and again?” 

Perry shook her head.  “I like the idea that I  _ chose _ you.  That I keep choosing you every single day of my own free will.”  She could feel LaFontaine shrug behind her.

“Maybe it’s fate or destiny or whatever that pushes people into our lives, but we have to make the choice to keep them there.  I like the idea of the two of us finding each other, and choosing each other, over and over again,” they said.  “I like the idea that this isn’t the only life I get to love you.”

She turned in the circle of their arms, her hands curling over their shoulders, her fingers teasing the short hairs at the back of their neck.  She smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of their mouth.  “You’re such a romantic,” she teased.

“And for an artist, you’re remarkably… not.”  They grinned.

The two of them laughed softly, safe in their embrace with their foreheads pressed together.  After a long, tender moment, Perry whispered, “She’s going to get hurt.”

“Carmilla?”  LaFontaine pulled back to look in their partner’s eyes.

“She loves her.  She looks at this girl like she’s the sun and the moon.  Laurel is with Daniella.  It’s going to break Carmilla’s heart.”

“I know,” they whispered back, one hand running soothing circles on Perry’s back.  

“And it certainly doesn’t help that Laurel  _ likes _ Carmilla.  She’s  _ choosing _ Daniella.  And she’s not blind.  She  _ knows _ Carmilla wants her.”  Perry huffed, frustrated.  “She keeps stringing her along like some puppy when Carmilla would move the earth from its orbit for that girl.”

“I don’t think she’s being purposefully cruel, Perr.”  LaFontaine shook their head, “But we can’t do anything about the whole mess.  Except be there for Carmilla when it all goes to hell.”

Perry nestled her face into her partner’s neck, letting their embrace shield her from the world.  A few minutes later, she pulled back, lightly running her fingers over the back of LaFontaine’s head, their hair slicked back with pomade.  “If –  _ if _ – Carmilla is right about this reincarnation bupkis…  I want you to know I choose you.  Every single day.”

LaFontaine’s smile beamed, and they moved forward, kissing her sweetly.  “Every day, Perr.  Every life.”  They winked, and moved in for another kiss.

Dinner was eaten especially late – or early – that night.

  
  



	17. October 31, 1953 - Amsterdam, Holland

 

The sounds of the festivities, such as they were, scarcely penetrated the thick stone walls of the library, disturbing its earnest patrons not a bit.  The reveler in the werewolf mask had fled when Carmilla had answered his attempt to scare her with a pointed, toothy smile.

The peace and quiet was accompanied by the crackle of turning pages, the whisper of hushed words, and the padded steps of knowledge seekers in the stacks.  Alone at her own table, Carmilla reclined with her feet crossed, heels on the edge of the table.  Research for her latest article took up most of the tabletop space.  With her pages balanced carefully in her lap, the vampire absently chewed on her pencil while she scanned the printed text for mistakes.

She was staring unseeing at the sentence she'd been trying to get through for the last fifteen minutes when hands slipped over her eyes.  “Hi Laurel,” Carmilla said without without jumping.  She had known those hands in several lifetimes.  She was nearly certain that by now she could find  _ her _ with no senses whatsoever.

“Shoot!  How'd you know?”

Carmilla bit her lip to hold back a smile as Laurel passed her chair to sit down the table from her.  Laurel's bag thumped heavily on the floor where she set it down beside her.  “You stand out,” was her answer, the most honest one that she could offer in their circumstances.

“I was behind you,” Laurel reminded her lightly, distracted by the scattered books and papers.  “You didn't want to go to the parade?”  She frowned at the title of one of the texts.  “What are you even doing?”  Carmilla wasn't so much enrolled in the university as just hanging around and auditing the occasional class and she knew it.

The parade had provided a nice snack on her way to the library, but Carmilla had assumed Laurel and Daniella would be there so she'd decided to be anywhere else.  LaFontaine and Perry had gone, had invited her to come along.

What did it matter anyway?  Laurel was here with her, regardless of her intentions.  “What are you doing here?  I figured you'd be at the parade with Daniella,” Carmilla said instead of answering the question.

Laurel shrugged, picking up one of the pages to read it more closely.  “She has some sorority thing tonight and I need to get my essay finished.”  Putting the paper down, she leaned forward on her elbows.  “What on earth are you studying?  This says stuff about reincarnation.”

Still leaning back in her chair, Carmilla held her breath for a beat longer than a human comfortably could.  The reason she'd done the research, had written the article at all, was sitting down the table from her.  Carmilla could tell her everything, tell her how they'd met and fallen in love over and over throughout ages and lifetimes.  Laurel would never believe her, though.  Her truth would be written off as another misguided attempt to make a move, a test of Laurel's loyalty to her relationship.  A test that Carmilla would fail.  Laurel was with Daniella.  For all that fate or the universe or whatever it was that brought them together had done it again, Laurel had a girlfriend.  She had Laurel's friendship and wouldn't risk losing it.

Not having her in her life, she'd been there and done that.  She was sure it would happen again but not while she had any other option.

“You're studying reincarnation?” Laurel asked, visibly excited by the idea.

Carmilla couldn't hide her smirk.  “I wrote that.”  Laurel gaped at her.  “It's not fiction either.”  One hand pushed loose black hair back, boots thumping as she sat up straight in her chair and returned her feet to the ground.  “Do you want to read it?” she offered.  “I'm still editing, but another pair of eyes on it would be a big help.”  Laurel was already snatching pages.  “Ooh, no.”  Carmilla leaned forward to take them back from her gently.  She extended the folder she'd been reading from.  “That's the  _ very _ rough draft.  Read this one.”

Grinning happily, Laurel practically wriggled in her seat as she took the folder.  “Do you have a pencil I can use?”  She held her hand out expectantly, fingers wiggling.

“And what am I supposed to do while you're tearing my article apart grammatically?” asked Carmilla sarcastically even as she surrendered her writing implement.

“You offered,” Laurel reminded her without looking up from her eager reading.  One foot pushed her bag under the table toward Carmilla.  “Read my paper if you want.”

Carmilla frowned while she stretched beneath the tabletop for the strap of Laurel's backpack.  Stuffed full of books, folders, and papers, Carmilla took it upon herself to pick one at random.  She found the essay easily enough.  “You got the better end of this deal,” declared the vampire, her frown of dismay audible in her tone at reading the subject.

Laurel only hummed around the pencil between her teeth, too caught up in her own reading to listen to the complaints about the dullness of her own writing assignment.  The way she moved to push her hair back caught Carmilla's eye, brought how she was now gnawing on her lower lip into sight.

Carmilla caught herself staring only after she recognized that she hadn't been breathing.  The fond smile on her mouth was there without her knowledge and surprised her.

They'd been thrown together by fate, herself and Laurel, over and over, since the night they'd met.  Carmilla had fallen for her just as completely as she'd loved Lorelei.  Laurel didn't love her in the same way.  They had become friends, however.

It was incredible in a way wholly different from living with Lorelei, from loving her.  Laurel was passionate and loud, hyper and happy.  Each iteration Carmilla had found had been the same way.  She had every reason in the world to be as bitter and cynical as anyone but she wasn't.  It was enough, being near her, getting to be close to her.  Her fire set Carmilla's world alight.  She didn't need the sex.  This was enough, sitting beside her in a quiet library, hearing her draw breath and knowing that she was alive, that she was happy.

There were infinite ways to love this girl.  If she lived for another thousand years Carmilla wasn't sure she could experience them all.  She was going to try though.

No amount of love could make Laurel's paper topic any more interesting, however.  She was a gifted writer and it showed, drawing Carmilla to flip past the essay once she'd finished it, perusing the rest of the pages in her friend's portfolio.  There were a few aborted stabs at poetry and a few outlines for stories that appeared to remain unwritten, but Carmilla fell headfirst into what was there.  Laurel's imagination was immense, her prose powerful and precise.  She had a way with metaphor that drew the perfect image in her head while Carmilla turned pages.

There were only a few things that felt finished, more that were simply bits and pieces, but everything she read made her want more.  She'd devoured most of the notebook before she found it – one word scribbled in the margin that made her choke.  Just a name and a question mark –  _ Lorelei? - _ and her world spun.  Dropping her feet off the table, Carmilla sat up straight.  She couldn't hear the hisses to be quiet through the sensation of blood suddenly pounding through her skull.

The page was the rough outline of characters in a story that hadn't been written.  Carmilla didn't see her own name, or any of the anagrams she liked to used, but the setting was enough to make her break out in a cold sweat – 1920's Paris.

It was too much, too close to what she knew had happened.  She'd been in Paris in the twenties.  Had lived quite happily there with Lorelei.  The rest of Laurel's story was vague and less familiar than it could have been.  A waitress in a lounge and a novelist.

If she wanted to be accurate, Carmilla could fill in some blanks.  The thought made her smile in spite of the anxious sweat at her hairline.  Thinking about Lorelei still had the power to draw a smile to her lips.  She always would and there was no doubt of it in Carmilla's mind.

“Oh no.”  Laurel's voice made her head pop up.  “What are you looking at?”

Carmilla tilted the folder toward her to display what she was reading.  “I like this one,” she said, her voice gruff and hoarse.  She coughed and her gaze dropped to the pages.  She couldn't think about Lorelei and look at Laurel.  “How come you never wrote the rest of it?”

Laurel groaned.  “I'm going to kill you,” she declared, shaking her head.  Carmilla only smirked, her elbows on her knees and eyes tracing the thin lines of grout between the tiles on the floor.  “Did you read – of course you read all of it.”  Laurel skimmed the notes herself and her tone was fond.  “This one, I don't know.  It was almost like it came to me in a dream.”  Her throat cleared.  “That sounds stupid.”

“No,” Carmilla whispered, wringing her hands between her knees.  The truth – every detail Laurel could ever want about that lifetime was inside her head, flashes of the club filled with smoke and music and more passion than she'd ever imagined she could feel for someone.  Quiet mornings at home where they'd barely spoken but hadn't needed to.  Watching the sun rise together because the conversation hadn't stopped to let them sleep.  Carmilla could fill every volume in the library with her life with the woman she'd loved.

Her next breath came shakily.  “It's incredible.”

Laurel was smiling when Carmilla glanced across at her.  “But I could never really get the details to sort themselves out in my head.”  Shrugging, she caught the vampire's eye and smiled.  “Oh well.”

“Maybe in another life,” Carmilla suggested, leaning back in her seat and trying to release the tension that had stiffened her muscles to stone.  It wouldn’t surprise her to hear a creak when she moved.

Grinning at the segue, Laurel laughed.  It was too loud for the setting and she was hushed immediately but both girls only smiled.  “You really believe this stuff you wrote?”  Carmilla didn't answer straight away, only cocked an eyebrow at her in question.  She couldn't help herself.  She was curious to know what Laurel thought of the whole thing.  “It's a terribly romantic theory, at least,” Laurel admitted..

“Yes, because I’m a huge romantic.”  Carmilla cocked one leg across the other and let her foot bounce.

Laurel's smile was sweet but she scoffed.  “Well, you certainly don't want anyone to know it, but you are.”  She held up the folder and tapped it.  “I've got the evidence in my hand.”  She offered it back almost reluctantly.  “I really liked it.  And your grammar looked fine to me.”

“Thanks.”  Carmilla left the paper in her lap without opening it.

“It must be terrible – not finding the person you love in each life.  Or finding them and something keeps you from being with them.”

Carmilla swallowed down the lump in her throat.  “You'd be surprised, really.”  Laurel's brows dropped, confused.  “It's not easy.  But it's having them in your life that matters.”  She dropped her gaze to the floor again, unable to look her in the face.  She meant the words but if she said them looking into Laurel's eyes then the truth would be unavoidable for them both.  “There's a type of honesty and intimacy in being friends that's – it's not the same as being someone's lover -”  Carmilla breathed deep and released it.  “But it's not any less.  If you ask me, I mean,” she added belatedly.

Laurel's eyes were on her.  Carmilla could feel them tracing every twitch and line on her face.  She only looked up when it was impossible not to any longer.  Laurel's smile was small, nearly hidden behind the curled hand her jaw rested on, but it reached her eyes and lit her whole being with a golden light.  Carmilla could bask in that light for an eternity and never burn or scorch.

“You really think so?” Laurel asked, voice soft and hopeful.

Nodding, Carmilla offered her own flickering wink of a smile.  “I know it.”


	18. January 22, 1954 - Amsterdam, Holland

 

Uncharacteristically heavy snows had locked up the entire city of Amsterdam.  The pedestrians that braved the cold found themselves on deserted streets under impenetrable clouds.  The city hadn't seen the sun in a week.  Carmilla made use of both the solitude and the cloud cover by walking the streets every day to enjoy it while it lasted.

She'd only just returned from an early morning blood run when the phone rang on her apartment's landing.  Snow flaked off her boots as she crossed to answer it.  “What?”  Sniffles and stifled sobs made her tone soften instantly.  “Laurel, what's wrong?  What happened?”

She was brokenly crying but Carmilla managed to pick up the general point – that she and Daniella had had a fight, a bad one, and could Carmilla come get her.  The tears through the line made the protective beast cat that resided between her ribs roar to be released.  She'd let Laurel live her life, be her friend, but she'd be damned before she left Laurel to be hurt.

“I'm coming, cupcake.  I'll be right there,” she promised, pulling her jacket back on where it had been half off of one arm.

The roads were a mess with still mostly frozen snow but Carmilla wasn't bothered by it, keeping her motorcycle up capably while still making quick time to Laurel's apartment.  She was waiting on the sidewalk when Carmilla pulled up, fresh snow in her hair with the tears freezing on her face.

“We need to get you inside,” Carmilla said even as Laurel climbed on behind her.  She buried her face in the leather of Carmilla's jacket.

“Just go,” called Laurel over the noise of the motor.  She put the helmet Carmilla pushed into her hands on her head right away.

Unable to deny her anything, Carmilla hit the throttle immediately.  She didn't take them far, pulling over on a bridge when she could feel Laurel trembling against her back.  Climbing off the running motorcycle, Carmilla pulled Laurel into her arms.  “It's going to be okay,” she promised against her hair.  Fresh tears mixed with falling snow to make wet patches across her clothes.  Carmilla opened her jacket to tuck Laurel inside.  Her body was naturally cool, even having just eaten, but would adapt to the heat of others and their shared warmth helped ease Laurel's shivering.  

“Thank you,” whispered Laurel finally against Carmilla's collarbone, her tears abated for at least the moment.

“Can I please take you somewhere?  We can talk, or drink, or whatever you want,” offered Carmilla.

Laurel didn't lift her head but only hesitated for a moment.  “Can we go to your place?”

Carmilla swallowed the thick lump in her throat but nodded.  “Of course.”

“Will you make cookies?”

She sounded so small and pitiful that Carmilla couldn't deny her, laughing.  “Sure.”

Arms snaked around her under the jacket they shared.  “Thank you for this.  You're my best friend.”

It was more than she'd ever dared hope for from Laurel and she was grateful for it.  “Yeah, you too.”  Leaning their heads together, she hugged her closer.  “Let's get inside.”

A truck turning onto the bridge nearly clipped the bike.  Laurel didn't blink when Carmilla turned them to keep the dirty slush of snow from hitting her, washing over the leather of Carmilla's boots instead.

Laurel's arms stayed around her middle for the ride back to her apartment but she wasn't shaking from tears but from cold when Carmilla helped her off the motorcycle.  One arm around her back ushered Laurel inside the stairwell for the climb to the third floor.

Carmilla kept her apartment warm, the heat greeting them in a wall as they came through the door.  Both immediately stripped off jackets and sweaters, boots and shoes, leaving them piled beside the door, tossed over the arm of the nearest chair.

“I don't think I've ever been here,” Laurel noted, looking around curiously.

She'd been outside once, walked Carmilla home after a party, but Carmilla was sure her friend didn't remember their every encounter quite as clearly as she did herself.

“Well, make yourself at home,” offered Carmilla.  “I'll get the cookies going.”  She had the ingredients thanks to Perry, who insisted on cooking for her at least once a week.  No matter that eating traditional food wasn't a necessity for her kind.

Laurel wandered instead of sitting down, admiring the books on the shelves, the art on the walls.  The place was messy, clothes strewn across most of the furniture, Carmilla's bed a rumpled pile of sheets and clothing with books littered in the mix.

“You don't have a lot of people over, do you?” asked Laurel with a hoarse laugh, finishing her self-guided tour and joining Carmilla in the kitchen.  She pulled herself up to sit on the counter near where Carmilla was stirring together chocolate chip cookie dough.

“Not really,” agreed Carmilla dryly.  “Here, try this.”  She held up a small scoop of dough on a spoon.  Laurel moaned around her mouthful.  “Good?” Carmilla asked, laughing.

“Don't bake any of it.  Just let me eat that.”

“I think you would regret that, creampuff.”  She didn't stop Laurel from taking a bit more, just shook her head with a smile.  She licked the spoon herself before dropping cookie sized piles on the pan.  “So, are we going to talk about what happened or just eat cookies?”  Carmilla didn't let her smile slip but her voice was serious.  “Whichever you like.”

Hesitating, Laurel swallowed her bite.  “Cookies and then talking?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Can we -” Laurel hesitated again, holding her breath.

Moving to stand in front of her, Carmilla's hands found her knees.  “Anything you want,” she repeated her promise.

“It's stupid.”

“Try me,” coaxed Carmilla.

“Will you hold me?”  Laurel wasn't looking at her but Carmilla was glad because she could feel the expression on her face with perfect clarity, wide-eyed and slack jawed.  “I know we're just friends, and I don't mean – but I feel safe with you, and I'm really mad at Daniella -”

“I'm not here to make your girlfriend jealous, cupcake.”  Carmilla found her voice, hoarse and gravelly as it was.

“That's not what I meant.”  Laurel finally looked at her.  Two fingers wiped tears from beneath her eyes.  Face still splotchy and red from tears, Carmilla hadn't been able to take her eyes off of her.  “I love you, Carm, but not like that.”

“I know,” Carmilla said, breathing past what felt like a knife to the chest.  “I love you too.”  In any way that Laurel needed her love she would have it.  She turned her back, felt scrabbling hands grab her shoulders, seizing the back of her t-shirt and not letting her move.  Soothing touch found Laurel's knees behind her.  “I'm not going anywhere without you,” she reassured her.  “Hop on.”

It earned her a honking, choked laugh.  “You're joking.”

Carmilla bodily hooked her elbows behind Laurel's knees.  “This ride is leaving.  Last call.”  Arms looped around her shoulder immediately, jaw against her neck, and legs drawn up tight around her hips.  Laurel's weight was nothing to vampire strength though Laurel giggled and clung tighter when she was off the counter and entirely dependent on Carmilla.

Crossing the apartment was a matter of steps but Carmilla moved slowly deliberately, trying to savor having Laurel close.  She knelt slowly before her slumped, dilapidated sofa, delivering Laurel directly to her seat.  She did make a show of flopping over onto the rug and breathing hard, relieved when Laurel laughed and pushed her in the side with a foot.

“You hush!  You insisted that I - “

Carmilla rolled onto her back with a huff and a grin.  “I know.  Just teasing.”

Laurel blushed bright, curling her legs toward her lap.  “You're always so sweet to me.”  Carmilla went still, arm curled behind her head.  “It's just me though.”  Just last week she'd been witness to a particularly vicious teasing argument gone out of control with LaFontaine.

“Yeah, well...”  She said no more, only shrugged against the floor.  Whatever she meant to Laurel, there was no one more special to Carmilla herself.  That was simply all there was to it.

“Will you get off the floor, please?”  As soon as Carmilla complied Laurel was burrowing beneath her arm and into her side.

“What happened with Daniella?” Carmilla asked gently, before she lost her head to all the snuggling.

Laurel looked up her with watery eyes.  “She was being all jealous and it's ridiculous because I love her.”  Carmilla's mouth twitched against honey hair.  “You can be in a relationship and have friends without being a cheater.  I'm tired of being suspected and accused when I haven't done anything wrong.  I mean, she lives with a sorority full of women with all the same hobbies!  And I don't accuse her of cheating!”

“She thinks we're -”  Carmilla made the short leap to put the story together.  “Cupcake, I'm sor-”

Laurel chuckled and she sounded close to tears.  “You don't help with the nicknames, you know.”  She sighed, leaning into Carmilla's shoulder and dropping her face.  “She'd freak if she knew you'd kissed me.”  She sounded regretful.  That she'd hidden it from her girlfriend?  That it had happened at all?  Carmilla didn't have nearly the nerve to ask.

“I thought you'd forgotten about that,” Carmilla said into the silence that fell.

Laurel wasn't looking up at her, watching her hand play with the shirt covering Carmilla's stomach.  The lean muscles under her hand were taut.  Carmilla's whole body felt tense beside her.  “Relax, I'm not going to tell her.”

Above her head Carmilla scoffed.  “Am I ever not worried about you telling on me to Big Red.”  She had her own suspicions as to why Laurel hadn't mentioned the kiss to her girlfriend but wisely kept her lips closed.

“I do care about you, Carmilla,” Laurel said after the rising tension had faded back into a feeling less profound.  As if their conversation hovered on the bladed edge of a knife.  A single strand of hair or press of wind would be enough to send them tumbling to one side or the other.  Even a breath, a single word, would do it.  So Laurel let the moment pass into one not as fraught.  Her voice was soft, the tone of someone letting another down easy.

Carmilla bristled.  “You don't have to do me any favors.”  The scent of baking cookies was heavy in the air and she pushed herself to her feet.  “I'm going to -”  She gestured to the kitchen, fidgeting for a moment before she left the room on stiff legs.

The anger drained out of her before she even crossed the doorway but she lingered in the kitchen, heels of her hands at her temples in an attempt to drive away the headache she could feel coming.  Soft feet padded in behind her but she couldn't bring herself to turn.

Laurel's arms slipped around her middle, her face pressed against her back.  Neither spoke for an extended moment.  “I do love you, Carmilla,” Laurel said finally.  “A great deal.  More than Daniella will appreciate.”  She smiled to herself.  Carmilla could feel it against her back.  “But I have told her and I'm telling you that I choose her.”  She said it decisively, standing up straight again to put space between herself and Carmilla.  “You and I are friends and I dearly hope that we remain so -”

Carmilla turned, catching her hands.  “You've got me, Laurel.  Any way you'll have me, I'm yours,” she promised seriously.

Rocking forward on her toes, Laurel hesitated with her arms open.  “Can we still?”  Carmilla closed the distance, both arms around her tight and face buried in her shoulder.  “Good,” sighed Laurel, melting into the hug.  One hand found dark, tangled waves of hair and stroked gently.  It made the panther that paced between Carmilla's lungs lie down and purr.  “Did you just -?”  Laurel's hand stopped moving and the soft rumble ceased.  

Carmilla wasn't moving.  “Maybe it was the pipes?” she suggested, voice muffled by Laurel's sweater.  She leaned back with her whole body, pulling Laurel very slightly off her feet as a distraction.

It worked and the human girl whooped with laughter.  “Put me down!  Carmilla!”

She complied only because she could smell the cookies starting to singe.  Laurel pulled herself back onto the counter while Carmilla got the pan from the oven.  They were still too hot to eat so she left them, prodding with a spatula when the silence between them grew heavy again.

“I feel like I've known you forever.”  Laurel spoke quietly, musing aloud.  Carmilla risked a glance up at her but couldn't hold the connection in the way Laurel's eyes searched her face.  Not if they were going to remain friends.  “You know what I mean?”

“Oh, I do and we have,” Carmilla confirmed, smiling at the cookies.

Laurel sighed, drawing Carmilla's eyes.  The smile on her lips was a strange mix of affection tinged with sorrow.  “I just think we met at the wrong time for anything more than being friends.”

Carmilla pinched up a still molten cookie, which promptly fell apart in her hand.  She dropped half into her open mouth, offering the other half in her cupped palm.  “I won't miss again,” she promised with a wink and rakish grin.  Blinking at the incongruous expression, Laurel could only smile sweetly, sucking smears of chocolate off of her fingers as she chewed the bite of cookie.

From the hall, a shrilly ringing phone disturbed the regained peace of the moment.  “That'll be Daniella,” murmured Laurel.  The tone of her smile had chilled but the affection still laced her voice.  It might only be at a level that Carmilla could hear, but hear it she did.

“Do you want me to get it?” she asked when Laurel didn't move from her place on the counter.  Biting her lip, Laurel nodded.  She curled her legs to her chest, resting her heels on the edge of the surface.  “Alright,” agreed Carmilla softly.

Laurel followed despite herself, her arms curling around her middle.  “Carm -”

“What?” demanded Carmilla into the phone, her typical greeting, even as Laurel tried to dissuade her from it.  “Daniella, what a surprise,” she said with a hand up to keep Laurel from giving herself away.

“I know she's there,” Daniella said, harsh and hoarse.  Her next breath was broken.  “Please, can I talk to her?  I don't even – if she – and you -”

“Whoa, Red.  Keep your dignity, please.  Like she has told you and told you – she and I are just friends.  That's all.”  Carmilla noted the twitch of Laurel's mouth but averted her eyes.  “She's amazing and you need to get your head on straight.  You think you're tough but if you hurt her I promise you I can break you -”

Laurel snatched the phone’s receiver, shooting a narrow look at her that didn't match the laughing smile on her mouth.  “Daniella, I'm here.”

Carmilla couldn't listen to them make up and wandered back into her own apartment to flop onto her face on the sofa.  Her extra senses betrayed her to the tune of 'I love you' and 'I'm sorry', 'come home' just salting the wound and she pulled a pillow over her head.

“I woke you up kind of early, didn't I?” noted Laurel in a near whisper as she returned.

Carmilla sat up, unable to release the tension in her jaw.  “It's fine,” she said shortly.  Her hands brushed her jeans as she stood up and she pressed her palms against her thighs.  “I'll give you a ride.”

“Carm, wait.”  Laurel caught her by the wrist with gentle fingers and a soft touch.  Left facing each other, standing too close, Carmilla jumped when Laurel's finger traced her jaw.  Rising on her toes, Laurel leaned in to kiss her cheek softly.  “Thank you.”  

Carmilla turned her face in to chase her lips but caught herself, breathing hard through her nose.  Their eyes locked and Carmilla very deliberately stepped back.  Laurel's hand fell away.  “I can't.”

“I know.  I'm sorry.”

Nodding, Carmilla found Laurel's jacket on the chair and held it up.  “Let's get you home.”

The snow had started again outside, leaving the city quiet but for the whisper of falling flakes.  Carmilla's motorcycle tore the silence apart and she smiled to herself as she revved the engine.  Maybe she'd take a drive out of town for a few days once she dropped Laurel off, get her mind off of things.  It was a pleasing notion, at least.

Weather was worse than it had been hours earlier but Carmilla was careful, taking each turn with more than her usual caution.  In the end it didn't matter.  The truck was going too fast, recklessly fast, skidding toward the motorcycle and its passengers with no way of changing its course.  Carmilla threw the bike down and did her best to cover Laurel with herself.  It was nearly on top of them by the time it flipped and rolled over the cowering vampire and her all too human companion.

It was like waking up in the coffin again, blood everywhere – on her skin, in her mouth, coating her throat and lungs and feeling like drowning.

This was worse than the coffin.

Carmilla had been dead for centuries, had ushered death to others more times than she could remember.  She knew blood and death intimately, as something that she was both servant and master of, as something that offered her sustenance.  The taste of bloody death was one she was grotesquely familiar with.

Laurel was already dead in the snow before Carmilla had moved from her place sprawled beside her on the torn earth.

She was dead and Carmilla knew it but she moved anyway, heedless of the rest of her injuries, screaming her grief into the uncaring coldness of the ice that coated the ground.


	19. March 2, 1954 - Amsterdam, Holland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has occurred to us (a bit belatedly, so sorry!) that posting a story about a lot of queer characters dying, repeatedly, is somewhat insensitive given the terrible trend in pop culture lately. We're both following what's been going on - as well as ranting at each other - and we wanted to drop a note on this to assure you, our readers, that we promise that there will be a happy ending for everyone. We love angst, but only if there's a fluffy payoff. The entirety of this portion of the story was written last year - we're both angsty assholes but we promise we aren't cruel - and it is awful luck that the chapters happen to be posted at such a bad time for queer characters & fans.
> 
> Thank you sincerely to everyone who is reading and we hope you'll stick with us.  
> -L & R

 

LaFontaine was not an artist.  They were just in love with one.  As a result, they knew far more about art movements, style choices, and paint than they ever really needed.  But they did have a decent eye, in that they could read their lover’s mood and thoughts by what she created.  And Perry’s themes had turned to the bleaker side over the past few months.  They knew why.  Laurel’s death had hit them all hard, even though Perry and LaFontaine had only met her a few times.  

 Carmilla was despondent and morose.  Her bookstore had remained shuttered for two weeks until Perry had snagged the keys and opened it back up.  LaFontaine quit their job at the docks, having taken over the store while Perry spent her afternoons painting pieces that were selling well.  Perry could now be now a full-time artist, and part-time bookstore clerk, her dreams of artistic success coming true as Carmilla’s world crashed down.  LaFontaine hated the cruel contrast of it.

 Carmilla had gotten through the small funeral, barely.  Laurel’s father had stood, shoulders bowed, next to Daniella, united in their grief.  When the casket had been lowered into the ground next to Laurel’s mother, a heart-breaking sob erupted and Mr Harris wobbled on unsteady legs.  Daniella caught him, just as Carmilla had started to move towards the front of the crowd.  The echo of Mr Howell at Lorelei’s funeral - confused, caught between the memories of burying his wife and the experience of burying his daughter, his mind mixing the two up from moment to moment - had, according to a broken and grieving Carmilla, made her move forward towards Laurel’s father.  

 LaFontaine had stopped Carmilla’s movement at the funeral.  Had linked their arms together, and shuffled down so that Perry could slip to Carmilla’s other side.  She’d spent the rest of the funeral like that, bracketed by two redheads, her friends alternately holding her back and holding her up.  As much as LaFontaine grieved for Laurel, they also felt a hollow space between their ribs for Carmilla.  It was as if the vampire collapsed in on herself, pulling her two companions away as soon as the graveside service was over (and how lucky she had been that the day was overcast, allowing her to attend at all).

 Now, a month after Laurel’s funeral, LaFontaine found themselves scrubbing at a stubborn stain on the counter as they waited for Perry to get home.  The jingle of the keys in the lock was their clue that their partner had made it back.

 Perry was visibly exhausted, her eyes shadowed and her curls lay unnaturally flat around her face.  Dressed all in formal black, she set her clutch down by the door, turning to lock it for the night.  When she caught sight of LaFontaine, she seemed to fold in on herself, and they surged forward to pull her into their arms.

 “You’re home,” they said, settling Perry’s head on their shoulder and wrapping their partner in a tight embrace.  A muffled sob was Perry’s answer.

 LaFontaine shuffled them both over to the couch, rearranging until they were flat on their back with Perry curled on top of them.  They ran one hand up and down Perry’s back as the other curved around the back of her neck.  She sobbed for a few minutes, shaking with some emotion LaFontaine couldn’t quite figure out, before she quieted and sunk even further into her partner’s body.

 When Perry’s breathing had evened out, LaFontaine murmured, “The funeral?”  They’d expressed their reservations over Perry attending.  Neither of them had met Daniella more than once or twice, had heard the most of her from Carmilla, who was understandably biased if grudgingly respectful.  But when word filtered through the neighborhood that Daniella was dead, had walked in front of a busy lorry on purpose, Perry had been determined to pay her respects.  Especially with the news that her sorority sisters had to take up a collection to bury her.

 “Her family didn’t come,” Perry whispered, her voice pained.  “It was her sorority sisters, and one cousin who I am pretty sure is gay himself, and a friend from her work.  And me.  The pastor looked like he hated every moment of it.  Her ex-girlfriend sobbed through the whole thing.”

 LaFontaine sighed, having expected as such.  They would have attended, but it was their night to close the bookstore, and had gotten home after the burial had already been scheduled to start.  “At least she had people there,” they murmured, already planning to stop by the cemetery with some flowers later that week, for Daniella and for Laurel.

 Perry nodded into her partner’s chest, still dampening it with her steady tears.  “She did.  I had to be there, love.  I had to.”

 “I know,” they replied, smoothing away the lines on Perry’s forehead with a gentle touch.  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you.”

 She snorted out a bitter laugh, snot splattering across LaFontaine’s shirt, “You hate funerals.”

 “But I love you.”  They started to run their fingers through her curls, “And that’s why I wish I had been there with you.”

 “I love you too,” Perry murmured, snuggling into her partner’s body and pressing a gentle kiss above their steady heart.  

 Silence reigned in their apartment for more than an hour as Perry soaked in the comfort LaFontaine offered.  “We can’t let Carmilla drown because of this,” she said, breaking the silence.  She couldn’t see, but could practically feel LaFontaine’s raised eyebrow.  

 “Uh, Perr, she kind of already is?  She did lose the girl she was in love with.  Died right in her arms, basically?”  LaFontaine shivered at the thought, swallowing heavily.  They’d been the one to find Carmilla, still covered in Laurel’s blood, sitting on the sidewalk in front of the bookshop only hours after Laurel died.

 “I know.  And she needs to grieve, I understand that.  I just… we can’t let her go.  We can’t let her do what Daniella did,” Perry clarified.

 “Fairly sure that if a lorry hit Carmilla, the lorry would be the one that came out worse in the end,” LaFontaine muttered.

 “Yes, yes, she’s a near-indestructible vampire, but we can’t let her stop really living because of her grief.”  Perry laid a single finger over her partner’s lips, knowing the wisecrack that was about to come out of their mouth.  “She needs us.”

 LaFontaine nodded gently, “She does. We’ll take care of her.  I promise.”

 “Where’s our lovely roommate?” Perry asked, after a moment.

 “Out, of course,” LaFontaine murmured.  “With her girlfriend.  Said she wouldn’t be home tonight.”

 “Of course,” Perry replied, already deep in thought.  She raised her head to meet LaFontaine’s eyes.  “She’ll move in with that girlfriend soon, I’d bet.  Let’s keep the room empty.  Just in case.”

 “You think Carmilla will want to move?” LaFontaine asked, confused.

 Perry shook her head, “But she might need to.  That apartment… and she might do better with us closer by.  I stopped by on my way home.”

 “Had she eaten?”

 “Yes.  But she was still in her pajamas.  For, I think, the fifth day.  I’m going to stop by tomorrow and do laundry, clean a bit, try and get her into the shower.”

 “I’ll pick up some blood,” LaFontaine offered.

 “Please.  And when you’re done at the shop, get some food?  We’ll have dinner with her if I have to drag her into her chair,” Perry said with a determined glint.  Carmilla’s tiny apartment only even _had_ three chairs at her table because of their ‘family dinners’ over the past few years.  Half the cutlery, almost all the pots and pans, were ones Perry had supplied.

 “Of course.”

 Silence fell between them once more, LaFontaine running their hand up and down Perry’s back, soothing her.  

 “It terrifies me,” Perry whispered into her partner’s chest.

 “Mmm?” LaFontaine’s caresses stopped for a moment, surprised, before they started up again.

 “The idea of losing the person you love most in the world.  Of burying them.  Having to go on alone.”  Each word sounded as if it was dragged from her lips.

 “Perr…”

 “I know, I know,” she sniffled.

 “Perr, I _promise_.  You won’t have to live a single day without me,” LaFontaine whispered, holding their partner close.

 “I love you, but you can’t promise that, darling.”

 LaFontaine pressed a kiss to Perry’s temple.  “No, I can’t.  But I am anyway.”


	20. June 24, 1954 - Amsterdam, Holland

 

Carmilla’s apartment smelt.  Of rotted food and too-old blood and body odor.  It smelt like Carmilla had died, her corpse rotting in the bed, instead of it being Laurel who had been buried five months beforehand.  Perry twitched her nose, her senses offended by the stench.  On the rumpled bed a large panther curled up, its fur greasy and ruffled.

“Hello, darling,” Perry greeted her friend.  The only reply was a low, half-hearted growl that Perry ignored as she set down her purse and approached.  Carmilla as a panther was a mix of the girl and the animal, but tended more to the girl.  Her panther form was the easiest way to hide, at the moment.  Hide from a world she didn’t want to face, hide in the much simpler emotions of a large cat.  Perry sat down on the bed, smoothing her pencil skirt before reaching out to lay a hand on Carmilla’s flank.  “I would like to talk  _ with _ you, not  _ at _ you, Carmilla.  Please?”

Another growl came from the panther as she morphed into a rumpled, filthy human, wearing only boxer shorts and a battered singlet stained with blood.  Perry gently clucked her tongue.  “You spilt on yourself again.”  The growl that came from Carmilla’s throat was disturbingly close to the one she could produce as a panther.  Perry sighed.  “When was the last time you ate?”  A shrug was her only answer.  “Well it’s very obvious you haven’t bathed lately.  It is, of course, your choice not to eat or bathe.  I don’t know how long it takes for a vampire to starve, but I would prefer not to watch you die.”  Another low growl sounded as Carmilla turned away, curling around a pillow on the bed.

Perry stood up.  She glared for a moment at Carmilla’s back before sadness overtook her expression again.  Heading into the kitchen area of Carmilla’s small apartment, she filled a large cup with water from the tap before striding back over to the bed.  She sighed, and at the foot of the bed stopped, before flinging the cup’s contents over Carmilla.

The vampire shrieked.  It wasn’t a woman’s voice or a panther’s that came from her throat, but something otherworldly and inhuman.  Shivers went down Perry’s spine but she squared her shoulders and tugged at Carmilla’s filthy singlet.  “You are going to shower.  And eat.  And then you are coming with me.”

The rumbling growl sounded again from her chest, and Carmilla turned over to glare at Perry, who stood firm under the vampire’s anger.  “No,” she stated simply, her voice rough with disuse.  

“Yes,” Perry insisted, kindly.  “Laurel is dead, Carmilla.  You are not.  Uh, technically speaking.  And I highly doubt that it is honoring her memory for you to decay in your apartment until you cease to exist.”

The growl was obviously pained, and cut off only so Carmilla could speak.  “You have no idea what I feel.  Or what she…”  Her voice cut off mid-sentence and she swiftly turned into a panther again, letting out a shriek.  She snapped her jaws at Perry, jumping off the bed to pace from one end of the room to another on large paws.

Perry settled her hands on her hips and watched the panther shake out its nervous energy.  Carmilla had seemed to function – if only by rote – for a while after Laurel’s death, but in the past two months had slowly spiraled downwards.  Until she was filthy and hungry and restless, but unwilling to change any of those things.  Her friend resettled at the end of the bed.

“I can’t imagine what you’re going through,” Perry remarked, smoothing her skirt again – a nervous tic – before she started to play with the plain silver band around her ring finger.  “I can’t imagine finding and losing someone again and again.  I can’t even imagine…” she trailed off, her hand going to her heart and then to her throat.  “I can’t even imagine losing my LaFontaine, and we’ve only been together for one brief lifetime.”  The panther snorted, but had stopped pacing and settled on its haunches, tail swishing angrily.  “I can’t imagine it, and I pray that we die together because I can’t imagine life without them.”  She met the great dark eyes of the big cat and visibly steadied herself.  “I can’t imagine it, and I know you are living it again, Carmilla.  And I will be here for whatever you need to get through this.  Because you can.  Because you are not like me, you’re not weak.  You are strong enough to survive, and wait until you meet her again.  You said she was born before, that you loved her before.  And you met her now.  Maybe next time will be fifty or a hundred years away, but you have to hold out hope that it’ll happen again.  And that next time you can love her once more.  If you waste away in this disgusting apartment… you won’t get that.  You won’t get  _ her _ .”

The panther let out another shriek, forsaken and hollow, before transforming back into an even weaker Carmilla.  “I’m so hungry,” she groaned.

With her normal efficiency, Perry rose from the bed and retrieved her oversized purse.  Normally full of art supplies or LaFontaine’s tools, she instead pulled out a glass bottle from the local blood bank.  “I thought you would be,” she replied.  She removed the rubber stopper before carefully approaching her friend, who was curled in on herself on the floor.  Sinking to her knees, she offered Carmilla the bottle.  With an inhumanly fast grab, Carmilla took the bottle and drank it down, a single drip of blood escaping her lips.

Sated, Carmilla let the bottle fall to the floor.  She’d been near the point where she’d go into convulsions from hunger – an experience she hated.  Perhaps that had been her breaking point.  Maybe Perry’s words hit something inside her.  Enough that she’d live.  For another day at least.  But that didn’t mean she had to be nice about it.  “What else did you want? To take me somewhere?”  The words were a growl, sullen and full of the hurt she carried constantly.

Perry allowed a small, caring smile to spread across her face.  “Yes.  You can’t stay here alone.  Not now.  You need your friends with you.  You’re going to come and stay with us.”

“I’m not going to sleep on your couch,” Carmilla replied derisively.  Her friends had bought a tiny three bedroom house with the money Perry’s family had given her to disappear, and shared it with a boarder while Perry used the third bedroom for her art studio.

“Of course not, dear.  Our boarder moved out last week.  You’ll have her room.”  She reached over to pat Carmilla’s knee.  “We’ll get you cleaned up, and head over right away.  I’ll come back tomorrow to clean and pack this up.”  She gestured around the room.

“I like this apartment,” Carmilla grumped.  It was true.  She’d kept it for nearly seventy-five years, in fact, leaving it vacant and dusty when she wasn’t in Amsterdam.  

“Laurel almost kissed you over there,” Perry pointed out gently.  “She sat there, in that chair.”  Shaking her head, Perry continued, “This place is full of her ghost, and you know it.  Even though she was only here the once.”  

Carmilla blushed, unable to contain her embarrassment at what she’d revealed while sobbing drunkenly in her friend’s arms after the funeral.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Perry said, patting Carmilla’s hand.  “But you can’t stay.  It isn’t good for you.  You’ll live with us.  You can,” she gestured around the room, “rent this out.  Or something.  I’ll pack your things tomorrow.  You’re not setting foot in here any time soon.”  She rose up from the floor.  “First, though, you’re taking a shower, and getting dressed in clothes that don’t smell.”

The vampire growled, but complied.  At almost three hundred years old she let herself be bossed around like a child, but Perry was a force of nature.  And there was no denying that allowing herself Perry’s nagging comfort was all that allowed Carmilla to keep a hold on herself.  Perhaps living with her friends would be for the best.


	21. November 14, 1973 - Gotland, Sweden

Music was an escape for Carmilla, her headset providing pseudo-isolation.  No one much wanted the overnight shift at the radio station but it was her perfect job.  Quite possibly the best job she'd ever had.  Or maybe she just  _ really  _ didn't enjoy the rest of her life currently.  Carmilla couldn't figure that out, exactly.

The latest cycle of her mother's sacrifice had been taxing, coming as it had only months after Laurel's death.  She'd wandered after leaving Styria, letters and postcards to and from LaFontaine and Perry her only connection with her life in Amsterdam.  They'd joined her when she'd finally settled in Gotland, Sweden, moving into her admittedly too large for just her house.

It hadn't been just her in years though, even before her friends had arrived.  Maman had sent her new sadistic brother Will with her, expressing a wish for her children to bond.  Carmilla knew what it really was – another effort to make her miserable.

She'd done her best to convince Will to leave her and go on his own tour of terror through Europe but he was a terrible Mama's Boy, unwilling to go against their mother's wishes.  She hated him quite a lot.

At least she'd gotten word to Mattie so her big sister was coming.  Of course, Matska's time frame had always been rather flexible so there was no telling when she'd actually show up.  Carmilla hoped it was soon.

Between her housemates and her brother the only time she got alone was her nightly shift at the radio station.

Noticing the time, she announced her last track of the night and dropped the needle.  She packed up her things while it played.  The next shift jockey came in with a quiet nod.  “See you,” she said in acknowledgment, saluting with two fingers as she left the booth.

Her motorcycle, a blood red Ducati Mach 1 to replace the ruined Indian, was coated with snow that had fallen through the night.  Gray clouds promised even more snowfall soon.  Carmilla wiped her seat down with a bandana she kept in her jacket for that purpose, idly watching the slow sunrise behind the cloud cover.

Her denim jacket wasn't enough protection against the cold but she didn't rush.  She couldn't say if she'd move any faster if there was a risk of the sun escaping the clouds to burn her down.  All she knew for now was that Perry would have breakfast on the table as soon as she walked in.

The rest of the town was only just rising, a few early shopkeepers waving as they opened up, Carmilla warming her backside against the idling motor as it heated.  A girl jogging down the icy sidewalk caught her attention.  The running girl's foot slipped on the icy concrete but she caught herself, only slightly slowing her pace.

When she slipped again Carmilla caught her by the arm.  The girl's momentum took her own balance over and only vampire reflexes saved them.  “Whoa there.  Where you going in such a hurry?”

The girl's body was braced for impact with the ground, eyes squeezed closed, and she peeked them open slowly.  Realizing she wasn't on the ice, she smiled.  “Thank you!”

They were both stable but Carmilla found herself stuck, unable to release her.  She'd only just seen her but she  _ knew  _ it.  She could feel it inside in an instant.  Everything she was recognized the girl in her arms.

“Are you okay?”

Snapping out of it, Carmilla jerked her hands away as if she'd been burned.  “Sorry.  I just – I'm sorry -”

“It's alright.  It's not like you didn't just totally save my life.”  She smiled wider, hands moving at her sides.  Carmilla cautiously moved her hands up just in case she slipped again.  The stranger beamed, grinning.  “I'm Lill.”

Of course she was.  Carmilla bit back the wide smile that wanted to take over her face.  “Carmilla.”

“Very nice to meet you, Carmilla.”

“Where are you going in such a hurry, cutie?”  She couldn't help herself.  It just slipped out.  If it was overly familiar, it was because she was overly familiar.  She had loved the girl before her for most of her supernaturally long life.  Whatever her name was, however her physical self changed from life to life, she  _ knew _ her and she loved her.

It was very possible that Carmilla loving her got her killed.

Carmilla's smile froze and fell.

The thought had occurred to her more than once in the decades since Laurel's accident.  She'd been obsessed with the idea, really.  For years.  She'd thought it through from every angle.  She'd found Ell and Maman killed her.  She'd had a few years with Lorelei before the sickness had taken her.  She'd been in Laurel's life for less than a year before the accident that took her life.

She should turned her back and walk away and let Lill forget that this had ever happened.

It would be the best thing for them both.  She could take another stab at moving on and Lill could have a life.  

That wasn't what she did.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” was what she said instead.

Lill's eyes widened even as her smile did.  “Are you going to convince me?”

Carmilla reached forward, holding her hand out until Lill put her own into it willingly.  Carmilla bowed over them, her lips brushing the back of Lill's hand.  “I'd certainly like to try if you'll give me a chance.”  She circled her thumb across the soft skin of the hand still in her grasp before taking a measured step back.  She rolled her shoulders, cracked her neck to either side, making a production of her preparations.  “You ready for this?” she asked finally, popping knuckles on both hands against her thighs.

“Show me what you've got,” challenged Lill with a giggle that made Carmilla fall even harder.

Carmilla didn't say anything, barely moved at all except to toss her hair so that her fringe was over her eyes.  She winked.

Lill was almost startled by the dramatic underwhelm and it made Carmilla throw her head back and laugh.  Which was when she succeeded in her endeavor.  Lill swallowed hard.  “I'm not really sure I can deny that.”

Carmilla grinned, unconsciously tonguing the sharp edge of her incisor.  “Would you like to get dinner?” she asked despite knowing better.  She knew precisely how this story ended.  She'd lived it at least three times.

“It's five in the morning,” Lill noted, still smiling.  She hadn't taken off down the sidewalk again, which was encouraging.  “What about breakfast?”

Forget the story.  The story was going to change.  She was going to change it.  She'd lost Ell and Lorelei and Laurel.  She wouldn't lose Lill before she even got a chance to know her.  Before Lill got a chance to live.

“I could cook,” she suggested before she could think it through.  Her house was full of well-meaning but nosy friends and a brother who'd go out of his way to try and take anything he thought she wanted.  To his peril if he thought of touching Lill.

“I'm staying around the corner,” Lill offered while Carmilla's mind was still listing every reason why inviting her  home had been a bad impulse.  “You'll still have to cook though because I only eat cookies.”  

Laughing in spite of herself, Carmilla felt her unbeating heart jump between her ribs.  Her panther purred and she fought the urge for a full body wriggle standing on the sidewalk.  “Of course you do.”  Her voice was a sarcastic hum.

“You laugh now,” warned Lill, her hands rubbing along her thighs to keep them warm.  Standing still in the falling snow had lit flakes through her hair beautifully but done nothing for her ability to retain body heat.

Carmilla positively itched to pull her into her arms.  “No, I know.  Let's go.”  Hooked a thumb over her shoulder behind her at her bike.  “We can ride.  You're freezing.”

“How are you not?” Lill asked even as she reached for Carmilla's helmet.  It was the only one she had.  She hadn't had a passenger since Laurel.  She didn't even wear it herself.  It was on her bike solely to appease Perry.  They wouldn't move a foot until it was strapped safely to Lill's head.

“I don't really get cold,” answered Carmilla, swinging her leg over the purring motorcycle.  She smirked and Lill grinned from under the black helmet.  “I'm a creature of the night.”  Lill laughed and climbed on behind her, wrapping her arms around her middle.  Carmilla's breathing stopped for a beat longer than a human could manage but she wasn't sure Lill could feel her unnatural stillness over the rumble of the motorcycle.  The last time she'd had a passenger hadn't ended well.   _ Change the story. _  Carmilla did her best to shake it off.  “Hang on,” she said roughly, voice escaping through a thick throat.  The arms around her slipped closer and she could feel Lill's chin rest between her shoulder blades.

Lill directed her with an arm extended over her shoulder, halfway down the block and around the corner.  “This is it.”  They'd arrived at a short brick apartment building and Carmilla parked on the street in front and killed the engine.  Lill dismounted and Carmilla took her first breath since she'd gotten on the bike.  It took her two tries to get her hands to release the handles' grips.  “I have roommates but they're probably still asleep.”

Carmilla noted the rising sun with a touch more care than she had twenty minutes ago.  “Are you going to tell me what you were doing out so early anyway?”

“It's possible,” teased Lill playfully, bouncing on her toes on the sidewalk.

Looking up at her from her seat on the bike, Carmilla chewed on the inside of her bottom lip, both hands sliding down the lengths of her thighs to her knees, her feet braced to hold the bike up until she kicked down the stand.  Lill was shaking her dyed black hair out from under the helmet and Carmilla's breath caught in her chest.  She wasn't sure she'd ever  _ not _ been in love with this woman.  Any incarnation, at any time, she loved her.

Lill curled her arms around herself, shivering under the streetlight and the snow.  “Are we going to -?”  She nodded behind her at the building.

Carmilla was off her motorcycle in half a second, gallantly offering her arm.  “Allow me.”  Her free hand opened the front door into a tight hallway.  Lill slipped in ahead of her but reached back to hold her hand.

“I'm up here,” Lill said, leading her up somehow even tighter stairs.  The second floor hall was dark, a single light flickering at the far end.

The door to her apartment stuck but Lill shouldered it open with a grunt of effort and gestured halfheartedly to the messy shared living space.  “Ta-da,” she enthused flatly.  “Come in.”

“It's nice,” Carmilla said without laughing.  She'd certainly lived in worse places herself.  “Really,” she confirmed when Lill stared at her.

“It's disgusting.  My roommates leave their hair and gunk all over everything and it's just awful.”  It was why she didn't bring girls home but went back to their places.  She loved Brody but he was a slob.  Deanne was less of a slob unless she'd been drinking.  “The kitchen is better,” she promised hopefully, taking Carmilla's hand again to lead the way.

It was, if only just.

Carmilla didn't falter, simply rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck to either side.  “Let's see what we're working with here,” she said, pulling the fridge open.  It wasn't all cookies and sweets like she'd expected and Carmilla started pulling ingredients out to the counter.  When she straightened up again Lill had taken a seat atop the counter on the other side of the stove and was kicking her heels lightly against the cabinet doors below.  “You're just going to watch, I take it?” asked Carmilla dryly.

“And eat,” Lill confirmed with a nod.

A smirk crossed Carmilla's mouth.  “I'll try and make it good for you then.”  Her eyes dropped when she saw Lill's throat bob and move in the column of her neck.  Pulling her gaze back up, she licked her lips.  Lill met her gaze without blinking.  Her bottom lip hung  _ just _ open and Carmilla tensed to keep herself from lunging for it.  She could already feel the pliant pull of it between her teeth.  Sweat beaded between her breasts and Carmilla shrugged out of her jacket.  Feeling Lill's eyes on her, she slipped the topmost closed button on her flannel shirt open and fanned herself with the collar.

“Warm?” asked Lill, amusement in her voice.

Carmilla cleared her throat.  “I'm fine.”

Lill grinned at her, leaning back on her hands.  “I'm waiting to be impressed.”

She swayed in her effort to keep from moving, leaning forward without shifting her feet before she remembered herself and pulled back.  “Get ready, then.”

Distracted as she was, breakfast was perhaps not her best effort in two hundred years but it was more than edible.  The two plates were simple but delicious and filling.  Lill ate hers sitting on the counter with the plate balanced on her knees.  Carmilla picked at her own, hip leaned against the counter to keep her eyes on Lill.

“So, are you a local, or -?”  Lill shrugged.  “I haven't seen you around.”

“I've been on the island for a few years but stuck close to home until recently,” answered Carmilla.  “Where have you been?”  She had the less than sneaking suspicion that if Lill had been anywhere within a hundred miles of her before now they'd have found each other then.

Her shoulders bobbed again.  “I've been traveling.  I came home to spend some time with my father.”  Her voice hitched and she cleared her throat.  “What about you?  What brought you here?” she asked more brightly.

Carmilla didn't answer immediately, eyes drifting around the room.  “I wanted very much to be alone.”

Lill blinked, her fork stilling over the plate.  “Oh.”

Carmilla's smile was slow.  “That isn't what I want anymore.”

“Oh,” said Lill again, cheered by the clarification.

“My...” she hesitated over the word, “parents own an art gallery.”

Lill gasped, grinning eagerly.  “The punk place?”

Rolling her eyes, Carmilla laughed.  “You know it?”

“I love that place!  Those are your parents?”

That was the narrative that fit their now disproportionate ages.  She hadn't aged since '53 but LaFontaine and Perry were now in their forties.  No matter how she felt about it when LaFontaine threw their arm over her shoulder and attempted to tousle her hair, she passed more believably as their daughter than any other story they might tell.

“Yeah, they are,” Carmilla admitted with a shrug and sheepish grin.  “They'll be glad to hear that you like the place.  You got the whole tour?”

Grinning, Lill nodded.  “It's an incredible gallery.”

Carmilla tapped her fork against her plate.  “Come by sometime and I'll show you the back room.”  Lill's grin was wide and she felt her stomach jump and twist.

Silence fell but whatever the magnetic pull between them was, it was left to fill the quiet with a rising tide of inevitability.  This thing that drew them together was as powerful as it had ever been, for all that they'd only met an hour before.  Neither spoke but they couldn't keep their eyes to themselves, each catching the other in more than one stolen glance.

“You made it but you don't like it?” asked Lill after a few minutes of quiet, noticing that Carmilla had barely touched her plate.

Carmilla shook her head.  “I'm not really hungry.”

Lill considered her as she chewed her last bite.  She was very deliberate as she set her plate aside.  “If you're not going to eat I think you should come over here.”

Moving slowly, Carmilla left her plate where it was and took a step towards her.  “You don't know me.”  It was a gentle reminder for them both.  Outside of an hour of conversation Lill had no idea who she was, for all that she knew Lill in every way it was possible to know another person.

“No, but I'd like to,” Lill answered, just as softly.  “Now are you going to come over here?”

Wanting nothing more than to cross the room, wrap Lill around herself and not let her go, Carmilla hesitated.  It might have been centuries but she still had the old fashioned sensibilities.  Lill wasn't some girl she wanted to bed for one night and never see again.  So she didn't move.

“I would love to, believe me,” Carmilla said, swallowing hard when Lill's knees fell open.  She could fill that gap, wrap those legs around her, carry her to bed.  It would be easy.  Carmilla forced her feet backwards.  “But I should probably get home.”

“Can I see you again?” Lill asked before Carmilla could say the words herself and the vampire let out a breath of relief.

“Yes.”

“Dinner?” suggested Lill swiftly.  Carmilla nodded, grinning.  “Pick me up here?”

“I'll cook?” Carmilla offered.  Lill nodded and Carmilla grinned even wider.  “Good.”  She stepped back again when every nerve in her body was screaming to move forward.  “I'll be here at sundown.”  Probably at the precise minute the sun was safely below the horizon.

Lill cocked her head at the odd timing but didn't say anything about it.  She moved when Carmilla started to turn, jumping down from her perch and crossing the kitchen in three steps.  She caught Carmilla's sleeve and elbow and turned her into herself.  Bobbing on her toes, she caught Carmilla's mouth with a kiss that was only soft for two heartbeats before the embers of heat between them flared to life.

Carmilla had Lill's back flat against the fridge in an instant, every inch of her pressed into every bit of Lill.  Hands pressed flat to the cool metal door to stay clear of skin but Lill had no such restraint, her hands in Carmilla's hair, fisted in the fabric of her shirt, while her tongue traced the contours of teeth in Carmilla's mouth.

Pressing forward, Carmilla sucked her partner's bottom lip between her front teeth the way she'd been wanting to do since walking through the door.  She drank in the sound of the moan that it drew from beneath Lill's ribs.  Weakened by the noise and the memory of how easily she could draw more from her, Carmilla's hands moved to slide up those ribs.

A stifled laugh and unmuffled  _ oof _ behind them made Carmilla jump back.  A tall redheaded girl and even taller boy with half his head shaved in a high undercut were standing in the doorway.  “Good morning,” he said brightly, one hand rubbing his chest where the redhead had elbowed him.  He offered his other hand as he stepped forward.  “I'm Brody.”

“Carmilla,” she introduced herself, shaking his hand.  She didn't let herself blush but could feel Lill shaking with laughter behind her.

“That's Deanne,” Lill said when the scowling redhead didn't volunteer her name after a minute.  “They're my roommates, obviously.”  She wiped at her now swollen lips carefully with two fingers.  “And their timing is terrible.”

“Not from where I'm standing,” said Brody, laughing again.  Deanne slugged his arm this time.  “Oww.”

“Unfortunately I was just leaving,” Carmilla said, glancing sideways at Lill, who was blushing.

“Yeah, it looked like that from over here,” Deanne finally spoke, dry and sarcastic.

Lill's hand touched her arm with a sensation like an electric shock and Carmilla's eyes dropped.  “I'll be back tonight,” she confirmed softly.

“You're moving awfully fast, Holgersson,” noted Deanne dryly, though she was smirking.

“I'll walk you out,” Lill said to Carmilla, ignoring her friend.  She laced her fingers through the vampire's cool ones and pulled her around the pair in the kitchen.  Thankfully neither of them followed.  

Carmilla paused at the front door, unwilling to let go of her hand.  Turning, she moved Lill deliberately into the doorjamb, pressing in close and kissing her slowly, deeply.  It might be a mistake that would ruin both of their lives, again, but she was unable to resist.  She'd denied Laurel at the end and she couldn't regret following her wishes but Lill was here, in her arms, and perfectly willing to kiss her and be kissed by her.  And so she couldn't help but kiss her.

Lill was breathless when she spoke again, eyes closed and leaning against the frame of the door.  “Wow.”  Carmilla whispered her agreement against her mouth but only grazed her lips.  Lill reconnected them with a moan, rising on her toes again.  “Okay,” she said after a too brief moment.  “Later, right?”

“Right,” Carmilla confirmed, nodding just to feel her lips drag and catch against Lill's.  “Later.”  She drew a deep breath, her vision swimming, entirely engulfed in the flecks of green in Lill's irises.  She wanted to kiss her again, bruise her lips with the force of her want and make it impossible for Lill to forget her.  Not when she'd never be able to forget a single moment she got with her.

“Later,” Lill repeated with a soft, wistful sigh.


	22. December 23, 1973 - Gotland, Sweden

 

It had been a century since Carmilla had felt nerves like she was currently.  It amused the hell out of LaFontaine.  They had promised to behave themselves once Lill arrived for dinner though.  The same clearly didn't apply to the hours leading up to Lill's arrival.  “You're not helping, you know.”

“Who said I was trying to help?” asked LaFontaine happily.

“Be nice,” Perry called from the kitchen.  “One of you needs to come in here and get this platter.  The other can set out the flatware.”

Looking at each other, both decided that disobedience wasn't worth the potential laughs.  “I'll get the platter,” LaFontaine agreed.

Carmilla had been a countess before Maman had brought her into the family.  She knew how to throw a nice dinner, if not all the particulars involved in set up.  Did it matter which was closer to the plate – the fork or the spoon?  She was sure there was some rule about it but she was equally sure that it would matter to no one at this dinner but Perry.

The doorbell interrupted her trying to puzzle it out.  “Will you get that, sweetheart?”  Perry had adapted quite well to the ruse of parenthood.  Carmilla just rolled her eyes fondly as she moved to answer it.  Lill was early but she was glad for it.

It wasn't Lill at the door.

“My monster!”  Mattie's arms were around her in a split second, lifting her off her feet.  “How are you?”

“Oof, too tight,” Carmilla ground out, breathing hard when her sister set her down again.  “What are you doing here?”

Mattie recoiled dramatically, hand on her chest.  “You invited me.  Or have you forgotten?”

Carmilla laughed, able to feel her ribs creaking behind the breath.  “That was almost eight months ago.”  Of course she would show up  _ now _ .  Her sister's timing was rather impeccable like that.

“You're not excited to see your big sister for Christmas?” Mattie asked, mock-scandalized.  “You wound me.”

Sighing, Carmilla shook her head.  “It's not that and you know it.”  They'd never been religious, even before joining the ranks of the undead.  Maman's idea of a holiday feast had been eating an entire household on Christmas Eve the first year after she'd been turned.  Not exactly a tradition she wanted to reestablish.

Taking in her clean, pressed pants and shirt on which all the buttons were done up, Mattie snapped her fingers.  “You've got a date.  And you don't want her to meet your sister?  For shame, kitty cat!”

“She's my girlfriend,” Carmilla corrected her testily.  “And she's coming over to meet the family, as a matter of fact.”

“Who, exactly, is more family that I am, baby sister?” Mattie asked with a smirk.  “Surely not that... William?  The things you've told me about him -”

“He's around somewhere.  But no, it's not like that.”  She shrugged, gesturing at the house behind her.  “I've been here for a few years.  Some friends live with me.  It's just easier to explain that we're family.”

Mattie sniffed.  She'd never been one to hide what she was.  Rather, she thrived in it.  “So she's human.  This girl of yours.  My darling, why do you insist on torturing yourself like this?”

Before she could answer LaFontaine and Perry were there, both preened and primed to meet Carmilla's girlfriend.  Her sister threw them both for a loop.  “Oh.  Hello.”

“Mattie, this is LaFontaine and Perry.  Perry and LaFontaine, this is my sister, Mattie,” Carmilla said, trying to remain patient.  All she needed now was for Will to show his face.

“Should we set another place at dinner?” asked Perry, subconsciously wringing her hands.  “Of course there's enough food.”

Mattie made sure to flash fang in her smile.  “I'd love to stay.  Thank you so much for the kind invitation.”  Her tone was dripping with her own unique mixture of sincerity and sarcasm.  She winked at her sister, slipping her arm through the younger vampire's elbow..  “Dear, you can't think I would miss meeting our new brother and your latest fling.”

“It is not -” Carmilla started in defensively.

“You didn't tell your sister?” asked LaFontaine at the same time.  “Really?”

Frowning, Mattie rounded on her sister.  “What precisely haven't you told me?”

“Yes,” said a deep new voice.  “What haven't you shared with your dear siblings?”  Will was scratching his chest as he came down the stairs behind them, his hair tousled, clothes rumpled and spotted with blood.

Pausing their ongoing discussion for the moment, the two sisters rounded on their younger brother.  “You must be William.”  Mattie's gaze took him in and dismissed him in an instant.  “I've heard... things.”  She clearly wasn't impressed.  “Matska Belmonde.”

He looked stung by the introduction, expression going hard.  “Can't say I've ever heard of you.”

Mattie only smiled slowly, again showing her fangs.  “Oh, you will, my boy,” she promised almost sweetly.  She let her teeth click together with the last word.  “Now, what's this business about my darling sister keeping something from me?  You didn't fall in love with another one of them, did you?”

“Mattie -”

“Love?” asked a voice from the open doorway behind them all.  Carmilla's shoulders went stiff, rising around her ears.  “Did you say love?”  Lill was wide-eyed, overwhelmed by the group confronting her.

Spinning, Carmilla shook her head.  “No, no one said love.”  Moving out of the middle of the huddle of people, she greeted her girlfriend with a soft kiss.  Mattie had said it but Carmilla felt it beyond any doubt.  Let it remain with the other things she hadn't yet said to Lill.  She'd had centuries to fall in love.  Lill had had only a few weeks.

It didn't matter if Lill believed her lie or not when her arms curled up her back, fingers playing with the length of her hair.  She nestled into Carmilla's shoulder as their lips parted.  “So, are you going to introduce me, or -?”

Carmilla kept her arm across Lill's shoulder, relieved by the arms that wrapped around her waist, front and back.  “Everyone, this is Lillemor.”  Fingers pinched her side sharply.  “Lill,” she corrected herself with a smirk.  Carmilla had only learned Lill's full name off a misplaced note from Lill's father.  She wasn't supposed to use it outside of the bedroom.  “Lill, these are Perry and LaFontaine, and my sister Mattie.  And my brother William.”  He was a clear afterthought and glared, arms crossed over his chest.

Lill waved from beneath Carmilla's arm, her own still wrapped behind her girlfriend's back.  “It's lovely to meet all of you.”  She didn't blink at the ginger faded to blonde people supposed to be Carmilla's parents, at the intimidating black woman she named as sister, or at the growly sloven of a brother who appeared to be the same age as Carmilla herself.  If she had questions they weren't visible in her friendly smile of greeting.

Trying to move them out of the lingering awkwardness, LaFontaine sidled sideways to hug Mattie with one arm.  It lasted long enough for her to recognize the sensation of physical contact.  They jumped back in a flash when she growled.  Perry pulled them back with her hands on their elbows when Mattie's teeth clicked.

“Mattie!” yelped Carmilla, lunging forward to separate them.  “Play nice,” she hissed at her sister.  “For me.”

Mattie was visibly displeased but didn't argue.  Her gaze narrowed over her sister's head at the not quite cowering LaFontaine.  “For you,” she declared, looking pointedly at her sibling.  “She's not worthy of you,” whispered Mattie, dark eyes raking over Lill's confused expression, sweater and tights and skirt, all patterned.

“I love her,” Carmilla reminded her in the same whisper.  Mattie sighed but relaxed.  “And I love you.”  Stretching up on her toes, Carmilla planted a kiss on her sister's cheek.  She could feel the smile stretch Mattie's mouth and squeezed her hand in gratitude.

“Is everyone alright now?” asked Perry, still holding LaFontaine by the arms.

“Yes, we're all fine here,” Carmilla promised.  Lill was frowning but she moved forward when Carmilla nodded.  “Just a misunderstanding.”

Trying again to move things along, LaFontaine made an effort to be noticeable when they sniffed the air.  “Per, it smells amazing.  Should we take this shindig to the table?”

Carmilla rolled her eyes even as she stretched out her hand for Lill to take.  “Yeah, let's do that,” she remarked dryly.  LaFontaine snickered when Carmilla pulled the chair out for Lill.  She stepped on their toes as she moved backward.  “Is there anything else I can do?” she asked Perry politely.

Glancing between her partner and her friend, Perry had to resist the urge to let her own eyes roll.  “If you'd pour the drinks that would be lovely.”  She patted Carmilla's shoulder with one hand.  “William, would you please go upstairs and clean up for your sister's company?”  He gaped and glared but Carmilla pointedly bared her fangs at him from Perry's side, Lill safely behind her.  He stomped up the stairs with a huff.

Carmilla did as requested once he was gone, pouring dry white wine into antique glasses.  It would pair perfectly with the trout Perry had seared for dinner.  Will clattered noisily back down the stairs, still buttoning his fresh shirt.  “Everyone have a seat, please,” LaFontaine invited them.

The others filled in the empty chairs at the table, eyes jumping from face to face – Mattie to Will, Will to Lill, Perry to LaFontaine, LaFontaine to Mattie then back to Perry and Carmilla.  Carmilla rested a bracing hand on Mattie's shoulder as she passed behind her sister.  Lill got a soft kiss on the cheek when Carmilla returned to her seat.  She hadn't noticed the exchanging of looks.  Her eyes were only for Carmilla, sparing glances for the rest of the party, shy smiles when she caught gazes over the table.

“Everything smells wonderful, ma'am,” Lill said as she passed a plate down the table after Perry had portioned fish onto it.  LaFontaine muffled another snicker and winked when Lill laughed behind a hand.  “Your parents are cute,” she whispered to Carmilla.

“Sure are,” agreed the vampire, shaking her head at LaFontaine where Lill couldn't see her.  “Could you pass the salad, cutie?”

Mattie passed the platters without taking anything, only spearing a piece of fish when Carmilla jerked her head at the dish.  She was more than willing to drain her wineglass though.

Will took enough to pass as human, digging into his meal without waiting for the others to finish serving themselves.  “So, what's your deal?” he asked with his mouth full.

Carmilla glared but Lill didn't falter, only smiled.  “I'm an archeology student.  I took some time off to stay with my father.”  Carmilla knew the rest of the story and slipped a supportive hand across her thigh.  Lill dropped her hand to lace their fingers.  “I met Carm right after I got home, actually.”

Carmilla smiled to herself.  There really was no mistaking their timing.  Without a thought she lifted their joined hands to kiss the back of Lill's.  Perry sighed softly and Lill blushed.  She didn't release Carmilla's hand though.

Lill shrugged.  “We've kind of been inseparable ever since, I guess.”  Green eyes slipped sideways to find Carmilla already looking at her.  A smile crossed her lips and she circled her thumb across the back of Carmilla's hand.

Carmilla leaned over, kissing her cheek and lingering to breathe her in.  She knew how it looked but she just couldn't help herself.  She had her girl back again.  Sitting right beside her and safe.  Mattie sighed, drawing her eyes but her sister flashed the tiniest of smiles at her over the table.  She supposed it was fairly obvious that she was in love.

“Yeah, we've noticed,” Will noted, tone snide.  Carmilla started to rise but Mattie handled it, digging sharp nails into their brother's arm in warning.

“It's a charming story, darling,” promised Mattie, showing more warmth than she had since Lill had arrived.

Will muttered something under his breath but it was at a level that only the other vampires could hear.  “Would you care to speak up, William?” requested Perry from her seat at the head of the table.  LaFontaine and Carmilla laughed at the same time, straightening up when her gaze turned on them.

“Thank you, Mattie,” Lill said, hoping to stem any unpleasantness with a friendly smile.  “Dinner tastes as good as it smells,” she told Perry.  “And your home is lovely.”

“Did I tell you that Lill's been to the gallery?” asked Carmilla, poking up her own bite on her fork and swallowing it nearly whole.  She could still taste the slightest trace of metallic flavor in the fish and it reminded her of blood.  

Fresh blood had been difficult to swallow, literally, after the accident on the bridge, feeling Laurel's blood soak into the snow, into her clothes and her skin.  Tasting it in her mouth.  She'd nearly gone feral with hunger more than once before LaFontaine and Perry had taken her in.  Of course, back then it hadn't really mattered to her.  Sane or mad, Laurel was still dead.  Her own death or undeath hadn't even been of consequence to Carmilla.

“Carm?”  The soft whisper of her name cut through the haze of memory, Lill leaning over to speak under LaFontaine's story about how they''d bartered for one of the pieces in the gallery.  “Where'd you go?”

Carmilla licked dry lips.  “I'm here,” she whispered back.  Lill's thumb bumped across the staggered landscape of Carmilla's knuckles.  Carmilla smiled without blinking, letting Lill fill her vision.  She wanted to say more, paint a thousand murals with her words, make it irrevocably clear to Lill the depths of her feelings.  Matttie could see it easily, being the person who had loved her from the day she was turned.  Of course Perry and LaFontaine knew her history, at least as far as it pertained to her love for this girl.  Hell, even Will could see it and he barely knew either of them.

The only person in the room who wasn't aware of how much Carmilla loved Lill was Lill.

Lill was human though, in a human relationship, and they'd only been together for a few short weeks.  Her love was a burden she'd carry alone until Lill was ready to bear it.  Carmilla showed it in any way she could.  That was enough for now.

“We have a cobbler for dessert,” Perry noted, drawing her back into the conversation.  “Carmilla mentioned that the two of you picked the apples yourselves.”

Will scoffed.  “This is pathetic,” he declared, not bothering to lower his voice.  “She's a -”

Perry was on her feet at the same time Carmilla shot up.  “Go to your room right now.”  She didn't raise her voice but Carmilla's presence, as well as Mattie's beside him, made it impossible for him to deny the order from the human.  The older vampires could overpower him in an instant if he stepped out of line and he knew it.

Standing stiffly and watching him go, Carmilla only relaxed when Lill tugged on her hand.  “So, your brother is a bit of a dick,” she noted into the uncomfortable quiet.  The rest of the table laughed gratefully.

“Yeah,” agreed Carmilla, glancing up at the ceiling with a dark look.

“Don't let him ruin your impression of the whole family,” LaFontaine advised her with a grin.  One hand mussed their faded hair, leaving it standing on end.  Perry's smile was affectionate as she reached over to flatten it back out again.

Lill smiled, able to feel Carmilla's eyes on her.  “No need to worry about that.”  She took a deliberate bite of her dinner.  “You've all been lovely.”

Conversation resumed, Mattie regaling them all with what she'd been up to on her travels.  Lill was enraptured with the stories of Mattie and Carmilla's escapades throughout Europe.  Mattie's affection for her little sister was in every recounted story.  She finished her meal and Carmilla pulled her chair up alongside her own, sliding an arm around her and coaxing Lill to lean against her side.

LaFontaine let them linger for only a moment before they cleared their throat.  “Carmilla, could you be a dear and bring dessert in from the kitchen?”

Sighing and narrowing her eyes, Carmilla nevertheless stood up.  “Of course.”

The cobbler was still steaming on the counter when all hell broke loose.  Carmilla heard the scream from the kitchen, shouldering her way back though the door into the dining room.  The entire scene was chaos.

Blood was the first thing that struck her, the scent heavy in the air.  Lill was holding her neck, crimson liquid bright against pale white skin.  LaFontaine was protectively in front of Perry but she pushed past them to check on Lill.

A growl drew Carmilla's attention to Mattie crouched over William.  His mouth was bloody and he wiped it away.  Carmilla was across the room in an instant, both hands lifting him by the throat.  Suddenly furious beyond words, the only thing that escaped her throat was a roar.  It was everything she had not to let the panther inside her out.

Mattie tore them apart, perhaps sensing her sister's intent.  “Carmilla, I've got him.  You take care of your girl,” she instructed her, one hand on Will's chest holding him capably still.

“Lill!”  Carmilla's gasp of her name had Lill's head rising.  She was pale, hair escaped from her ponytail and hanging limp.  The blood had slowed from her neck, was cooling and drying on her hand.  Perry was leaned in close, a bandage already half taped into place.  “Let me.”

Perry moved reluctantly, letting Carmilla drop to her knees beside Lill.  It only dimly registered that the chairs they'd been sitting in were overturned.

“He bit me?  Is that -?”  Green eyes were hazy and struggled to focus on Carmilla's face.  “Did that happen?” she asked, words slurred.

“Shit.”  Carmilla leaned in to check the wound for herself before she finished taping the bandage down.  The bite was ragged where someone, probably Mattie, had torn Will's fangs from Lill's neck.  It hadn't been a deep bite, for all that it had dragged and ripped through skin.  Lill had lost blood but wasn't anywhere near to death.

“Carm -”  Lill breathed deep through her nose.  “You're pretty.”

“You're high, creampuff,” Carmilla told her with a patient sigh.  “Come on.”  She slipped her arms carefully beneath Lill's knees and behind her back.  “Let's get you up.”  Lill curled into her shoulder and closed her eyes.  “Just rest.  That's right.  I've got you,” coaxed Carmilla in a whisper.

Her room was at the top of the house, alone on the third floor.  There were no windows in the converted attic but the skylight gave her more than enough light to see by.  Her bed was squarely beneath it, a dark oasis bathed in starlight.

Lill moaned happily as she was settled into the sheets, moving and stretching.  Carmilla wanted to crawl in with her more than anything.  She only brushed dark hair back from her face instead.  “You comfortable?”

“Mhmm,” hummed Lill in answer.  Her smile was soft and goofy.  “Are you coming to bed with me?”

“Not yet.”  Carmilla let the heel of her hand brush across Lill's neck, just above the bandage.  “Soon,” she promised when Lill pouted, bottom lip protruding.  “I just have to go handle some things downstairs and I'll be right back.”

“Don't hurt him.”

Jaw going tight, Carmilla shook her head.  “He hurt you.”  Will had no idea what he'd done, going after this girl.  She'd lost her too many times already.  William wouldn't walk away from threatening her.  Maman would just have to make herself a new darling boy.

Lill rocked her head from side to side against the sheets.  “M'not hurt.”  She was barely intelligible.  Her eyes could hardly open.  “Don't be mad.  Feels good.”

It was the bite.  Carmilla knew its effect perfectly well.  Pain became euphoria.  It made them more efficient hunters if their prey didn't struggle.  Will hadn't gotten her deeply but the bliss would probably linger for another little while.   _ Then  _ the pain would begin in earnest.

“Come back quick,” requested Lill, drowsily rocking onto her side and curling up.  Carmilla carefully covered her with the blanket, leaning over to kiss her cheek before she left the room.

Will was bleeding from the mouth when Carmilla returned to the dining room, his own blood, not Lill's, and Perry and LaFontaine were safely elsewhere.  Mattie cocked back for her next blow but paused when she saw her sister.  “He's all yours.”

“She's a stupid human,” Will tried to argue.

Carmilla's hand blistered across his face, full palm making a sharp crack as it struck his cheek.  “You know  _ nothing _ about who she is,” Carmilla said flatly.  “All you need to know is that I am going to kill you for touching her.”

“Mother -” he tried again, recoiling back in his chair.

“Oh, is she the wrong thing to try with me,” promised Carmilla, growling.  “I'd kill you just to piss her off.”

Mattie stepped in at that point, moving between them to push her sister back with gentle hands on her shoulders.  Carmilla was angry right now but knew the cost of disobedience.  She wouldn't let her little monster pay that price again.  “Talk to me,” she coaxed, voice low and soft in a way it was with no one else.  “Tell me why this girl is so special to you.”  One thumb brushed lightly across her brow.  “You've had other girlfriends.”

Carmilla shook her head, leaning her face into Mattie's touch.  “I've loved her... forever.”  Mattie cocked her head in confusion but waited for the explanation.  “She's – we find each other.  Every time she's reincarnated – we meet somehow.  I fall in love with her all over again.”  Her voice grew thick and Mattie pulled her into her arms, cheek resting on the top of Carmilla's head.  “She loves me too.  Sometimes not everything I'd want but it's enough.”  Her next breath was shaky, her voice hoarse.  “She dies.  Sometimes I get years with her, sometimes I get months.  Maybe sometimes I've only had days and I don't remember.  It took me a while to figure out what was happening.  I suppose there are some lifetimes where she dies before I ever get to her but twice she's died in my arms.  Once Maman killed her.”

Mattie had gone still but Carmilla straightened up to pin her gaze on William.  “I won't let it happen again.  Not right in front of me and not if I can stop it.  I don't care what I have to do or who I have to kill.”

“Darling, I'm sorry,” sighed Mattie.  “You know what Mother would do to you.  If you kill one of hers over a human.”

Carmilla turned her glare on her.  “She is not -”

“If you want to save her we'll just turn her,” Mattie suggested before the argument could start.  “I'll help -”

“I can't just do that, Matska!  She doesn't know what we are and I won't give her our life if she doesn't want it.”  If Lill didn't want an eternity with her the way she wanted forever with her then she would never force forever on her.  The time she got with her was enough.

Mattie's smile was sad, her fingers gentle as they combed through Carmilla's dark hair.  “Then, my dearest heart, you have a difficult conversation to have.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Carmilla nodded.  “But first -”  She squared up to face the still seated William.  “Get the hell out of my country.  Do whatever you want anywhere else but here.  If I ever see you again and your mommy's not there to protect you, I'll kill you.”

Unsure, William looked between the two women, his older sisters.  There was no division, only a united front.  Mattie even crossed her arms to loom better from her place at Carmilla's shoulder.  He made the wise choice and vanished from the room between breaths none of them needed to take.

Mattie relaxed when it was only the two of them.  Her arm slipped around her sister's shoulders.  “I love you.  If you love her then I'll do anything you want me to do.”  Her tone cooled.  “But I have to say, I wouldn't wish this for you, my girl.”  She kissed the side of Carmilla's face carefully before taking a measured step back.  “Good night, love.”

Left on her own, Carmilla trembled.  Her fists clenched and released at her sides and her breathing went shaky.  She couldn't say that it had never occurred to her – turning her love as a way out of their strange cycle – she'd even had conversations about it with Lorelei.  Lorelei had turned down immortality.  She couldn't expect anything different from Lill.

Lill would need some kind of explanation about what had happened tonight.  She hadn't been ready to share all her secrets just yet but Will had forced her hand rather neatly, doing what he'd done.  Carmilla knew it wouldn't be easy, saving Lill's life when her death was an inevitability.  She hadn't anticipated losing her because she'd been forced to tell her the truth.

There was nothing to be done for it.  She'd tell Lill about everything and deal with the fallout as she had to.  Whatever it took to keep Lill alive.  Even if it meant that she wasn't part of her life anymore.

The realization made her feel lighter somehow.  She took the stairs back up to her room two at a time.  Lill was still curled up in the middle of her bed but she stretched out against her when Carmilla slipped onto the mattress behind her.

“You okay?” murmured Lill, twining her legs through Carmilla's with her eyes still closed.

“Yeah, creampuff,” she answered, breathing her in deeply.  Maybe some tiny trace of her would stay somewhere deep inside her lungs.  Some bit that would lodge itself in the deepest part of her chest and stay inside of her forever.  “Hey,” Carmilla whispered, hand on Lill's shoulder to shake her to cognizance.

“Whas'wrong?”

“Nothing.”  She pressed a kiss to Lill's cheek, dragged her lips across her skin to kiss beneath her jaw.  “I love you,” she confessed.  Telling the truth was going to start with that.  Everything else could wait until the morning.

Lill burrowed back into her, sighing happily.  “Okay.  I love you too.”  Her hand found Carmilla's wrist, pulling her arm more completely around herself before she completely succumbed to the haze of sleep.

Carmilla let herself follow with a smile on her lips.

 


	23. January 5, 1974 – Gotland, Sweden

 

The setup of Perry’s studio hadn’t changed much, fundamentally speaking, in the twenty years that she’d been a full-time artist.  Every in-progress canvas was under an optimum amount of light for the work.  Dropcloths carefully covered the floor, taped down to prevent tripping.  An entire wall was covered with incredibly organized shelving that held various supplies.  And in the corner nearest the door, a battered couch and long, low table held LaFontaine’s tinkering behind a thick red line painted onto the dropcloths, containing the spread of LaF’s gadgets, so that they could spend time together even when Perry was creating art and LaFontaine was rebuilding the latest piece of mechanical whatever that held their interest.

LaFontaine set down the water pump they’d been fiddling with as Perry took a brush full of dark ochre and made a calculated stroke across her current project, early morning light warming the entire canvas..

“I haven’t seen you paint like that since Laurel died,” they said quietly, just loud enough to be heard over Carmilla’s program on the radio.

Perry let out a choked laugh.  “Well she walked back into our house last week, so she’s been on my mind.”  She rubbed at her nose with the inside of her elbow, her hands smeared with paint.

“Are you freaking out  _ now _ ?  I thought if anything you’d do it during dinner,” LaFontaine remarked, trying to make their partner smile.

Instead, Perry glared over her shoulder.  “With William in the house?”  She heaved a sigh, “We were lucky Matska was able to get him out.  Keep him out.  I’m glad he’s gone.”

“So am I.”  LaFontaine shivered.  Normally blasé about vampires, given their long friendship with Carmilla as well as a more than passing acquaintance with several others including Mattie, there was something unerringly cruel and callous about William.  When Carmilla had thrown him out, with Mattie backing her, they’d been nothing but relieved.  Knowing he was still out there, somewhere, felt like an unvoiced threat to everything LaFontaine held dear.  “This is your delayed reaction, then?”

“You’ve been reading Carmilla’s psychology books again,” Perry scolded.

They shrugged, not denying it.  “So.  Lill.”

Perry turned around after setting her palette on its stool.  “Lill.  Yes.”

LaFontaine raised a single eyebrow at their partner.  “You think she’s Laurel?”

She stomped her foot, frustration etching every line in her posture.  “I think the similarities are too much to ignore.  If nothing else, Carmilla has a very specific type.”

They laughed, shaking their head.  “You’ve seen Carmilla bring home  _ every _ type of girl under the sun.  No matter her size, shape, color, no matter what her birth certificate says, if she’s a pretty girl, or a handsome girl, or a smart girl, or a fun girl, she’s Carmilla’s type for at least a night or two.”

Perry moved on unsteady legs over to LaFontaine’s couch, sinking into the soft cushion and absent-mindedly taking her partner’s hand.  “She’s been with Lill for nearly two months now.”

“She has,” LaFontaine confirmed.  “And she’s happy in a way she hasn’t been in a long time.”

“Mmhmm.”  Perry looked at the canvas, then back at her partner, “We’ve known her for twenty three years, almost.  And she’s been really truly happy for maybe five  _ months _ of that.  Is it worth it?  For her?  Is it healthy?”

LaFontaine hummed along with the radio for a long moment, until the song ended and Carmilla’s soft voice introduced the next track, signing off for the morning DJ to take over.  “If it was me, would you wait?” they asked.

“What?”  Perry stared at her partner.

“If it was me.  If you were Carmilla, and I was Laurel and Lill and Lorelei.  Would you wait?  Would you wait years – decades – to meet me again?  To love me again?  Even if I didn’t remember you.” LaFontaine repeated, blue eyes wide and earnest and challenging.  

Perry lost herself in her partner’s gaze.  The same way she’d lost her heart to them years ago.  She thought about the idea of loving LaFontaine only to lose them, then having to stumble onward for decades only to find them again,  _ new made and clean of scars  _ like in the poem she had read the day before.  And she knew, with a dread that curdled in her belly, that she’d wait forever for a chance to meet, to love, LaFontaine again.  That nothing would or could extinguish the hope of meeting them again.  The love she had for them was all-consuming.  Unbearably bright and wonderful, worth any pain she endured in the quest to love them, protect them.

Even the thought of loving and losing and finding LaFontaine again made her want to vomit, the idea of losing them beyond any comprehension she could muster, the idea of living without them completely inconceivable.  She imagined herself in Carmilla’s shoes for a brief moment and wanted to scream until her throat was raw.

She was, she thought, a rational person.  Prone to human emotion, creative given her work, but not subject to flights of fancy beyond the obviously unusual elements to her life – such as vampires and the various supposedly otherworldly realities that Carmilla alluded to at times.  Lill upset that illusion, Perry thought.  The notion of reincarnation, of fragile human souls finding one another time after time, that seemed too far out for the very visceral, very literally bloody existence her vampire friend experienced.  Too romantic for the dreary, violent lives so many people in the world dealt with.  

“Yes, yes I’d wait for you,” she breathed out after several long minutes, thinking of her cousin who’d watched her husband march off to war and who had kept waiting.  Perry had been a child then, but she could remember the empty look in her cousin’s eyes after the telegram that changed everything.  She also remembered the emotionally broken woman she’d seen nearly twenty years ago, as Carmilla grieved for Laurel.  A part of the vampire had died along with her bubbly young friend in the Amsterdam snow.  It was glorious to watch that part of Carmilla she thought gone forever reemerge in Lill’s company.  She knew full well that if she ever lost LaFontaine, she would never function as well as Carmilla had managed for the past two decades.  But if she was promised LaFontaine’s return?  She’d struggle through an empty, dull existence for however long she had to until they came back to her.

LaFontaine hummed at Perry’s answer, a smile creasing their face.  “I’d wait for you too,” they said, “if I couldn’t manage to barge into the underworld and bring you back myself.”

Perry laughed sweetly.  “My very own handsome Orpheus.  Don’t look back, though.”

Their smile became serious, solemn.  “No, I wouldn’t look back.  Just forward.  I’d sing you free of death itself.”

Both of them heard the front door open and shut, the murmur of Carmilla’s rumbling laughter and Lill’s bright voice mixing as feet thundered up the stairs.

“I’m sure they’ll come back down for breakfast,” LaFontaine remarked with an impish grin.

Lill’s happy shriek and the thunk of two bodies moving together far above belayed that, as Perry smirked.  “Maybe brunch, before they sleep the day away,” she offered.

“Maybe.”  LaFontaine stood up, offering Perry their hand.  “Are we gonna let the kids have all the fun in this house?”

Perry let them pull her to her feet, and stepped close, until their chests were touching, “Carmilla is older than both of us combined, multiplied by three.”

“And she’s getting laid right now while we two youngsters are  _ not. _ ”  LaFontaine grinned, waggling their eyebrows at their blushing partner as they cupped her cheek.

As Perry leaned in to kiss her partner she closed her eyes, letting touch and taste and smell take over her perception of the world.  LaFontaine’s lips were chapped, their tongue minty from toothpaste; they smelt of motor oil, grease, something scorched, and pomade.  They were warm and solid under her fingers as she tugged them close, her arms circling their shoulders even as she could feel their warm, work-roughened hands slip beneath her smock and shirt to palm her sides.  Shivers skittered up and down her body at their gentle touch.

LaFontaine’s hands skimmed up boldly as they pulled away from her lips to kiss down the side of her neck.  She couldn’t help the moan and immediately felt her partner’s wicked grin against the column of her throat.  “Not here,” she panted.  “Upstairs.”  The last time they got carried away in the studio, the grease had taken days to scrub off both their bodies and two easels were knocked over during.

She led them by hand up to the master bedroom, pausing to kiss and touch every few steps.  Early morning sunlight streamed through the window, LaFontaine’s graying hair forming a halo around their head.  As soon as she closed and locked the door, they backed her up against it, peppering kisses across her face and neck as she wrestled with the buttons on their shirt.  There was nothing but soft, soft skin under the worn flannel and the sight lit a fire in her gut.

Hours later, sweaty and sated and absolutely loved, licking their taste off her fingers as she snuggled close with her head on their shoulder and a leg thrown over their thighs, she let them pull the blankets up to their shoulders.  Warmth and the heavy, thick scent of sex suffused the bedroom and there was very little Perry liked more than these moments with LaFontaine.  When the desire was fulfilled and the closeness overwhelming, when their bodies slid together easily, finding the perfect way for as much skin as possible to touch.  Fingers that usually were piecing together machinery or running numbers or shoveling snow were instead playing gently through her damp curls or running up and down her spine, palming her buttocks once in awhile.  

In these perfect, perfect moments, LaFontaine usually kept their eyes closed, a tiny smile on kiss-swollen lips as they hummed contentedly.  The normal avalanche of thoughts in Perry’s mind stilled, her mind lulled to peace by love and utterly blanked by pleasure.  As the world slowly encroached back into her consciousness, she let the thoughts arrange themselves as they would, honesty spitting out of her mouth uncontrollably, completely unfiltered.

As a few thumps sounded above them from Carmilla’s attic space, Perry found her thoughts turning to her friend.  “She’s going to do something foolish, you know,” she murmured, licking a bit of sweat off LaFontaine’s skin and letting her fingers trace the darkening love bites on her partner’s chest.  “She loses all common sense when she’s in love.”

Their chest rumbled, agreeing.  Neither of them could forget the agony of Carmilla’s friendship with Laurel, nor the incredibly dark period after the young woman’s death.  Their friend would pay any price to bask in the presence of her beloved, beyond any reason or sense of emotional self-preservation.  “We’ll deal with whatever happens, when it does,” they offered reassuringly.

“And if Carmilla actually stands up to her mother on Lill’s behalf?  If there’s a cult of angry vampires chasing after her?  Wanting to punish her?  Wanting to hurt anyone she cares about?” Perry argued.  She’d tried to map out all the possibilities, based on every scrap of detail Carmilla had ever shared about her life, and everything she’d managed to squeeze out of Mattie while Carmilla’s sister had stayed with them.  Even observing that little piss William had helped Perry fill in the picture of Carmilla’s mother.

LaFontaine shrugged slightly, “I’ve always wanted to go to America.  And Australia.  And Brazil.  And anywhere that isn’t even slightly in the vicinity of Styria.  She’s our family.  And Lill’s part of the family now.  We’ll do whatever we have to.  Even if it means moving to somewhere like Cleveland.”

Perry’s mouth twisted into a grimace, “Isn’t that where Carmilla said there was a particularly vile gateway to hell?”  She felt her partner nod.  “Wonderful.”

They laughed softly, “You’re borrowing trouble, Perr.  Carmilla’s a fool in love.  Let her enjoy it.”  They lifted their head up, and used a single gentle finger under her chin to guide her into a kiss.  She sighed.  If Carmilla felt half as loved as she did in that moment, she’d do anything to help.

An hour and a long, hot shared shower later, Perry shoved her wet curls into a simple ponytail before borrowing one of LaFontaine’s button-downs and pulling on a pair of soft jogging bottoms.  Barefoot, she made her way into the kitchen, pulling out eggs and sausages and a tin of beans and cheese and bread to start on a large brunch, the clock ticking softly to mark the passage of almost the entire morning.  LaFontaine entered the kitchen a few minutes later, cleaning off and setting the table and doing the dishes before loudly tromping upstairs to call Carmilla and Lill to eat before putting on the coffee and pouring some blood into a mug.  

Twenty minutes passed before Carmilla and Lill made it down to the kitchen, both of them having quickly showered and dressed, damp hair soaking their shirt collars.  Carmilla pulled out Lill’s chair for her before moving over to claim her blood and press a kiss to Perry’s cheek.  

The meal passed in quiet contentment as they all demolished their plates, Perry carefully watching the two young lovers.  Well, Lill was young, younger than she herself had been when she’d met Carmilla, for sure.  And there was a lightness to her long-time friend that she hadn’t seen in decades.  Perry smiled as Carmilla slung an affectionate arm around her girlfriend’s shoulders.

Oh yes.  Young love was worth everything.  Perry sipped at her coffee and turned her attention to LaFontaine.  Young love was worth everything because in time it could turn into the kind of solid, deep, carefully nurtured love she had been blessed with and worked so hard at.  She reached out to move a lock of red-and-gray hair out of her partner’s face.  Their eyes met, both of them soft and tender in their regard for one another, and Perry felt her heart flutter in her chest.  Love was much like hope.  You could flee from it, terrified, only to find it everywhere.  Once it set up shop inside you it never left, not really.  Perry smiled.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perry is thinking of and referencing Richmond Lattimore’s Sonnet on Hope found in his book, Poems From Three Decades, which was published in 1972.


	24. February 17, 1974 - Gotland, Sweden

Being breathless was a unique sensation.  Even after centuries her body's instinct was to breathe hard despite needing the air not a bit.  The sweat from exertion was even rather nice in the right circumstances in spite of being more or less coldblooded when she was hungry.

There was no fan in her room, no window but the skylight overhead, but Carmilla couldn't find the energy to rise from the bed and open it.  Let the air stay damp and close with the smell of sex.  She'd already chosen sex over food, after all.  She wasn't the one who had to breathe, even if she could appreciate the head rush of orgasm leaving her airless.  If Lill wanted to crack a window she was perfectly capable.

Theoretically at least.  Presently Lill was panting against Carmilla's middle, their sweat mixing with the wetness spread around her mouth.  Her lips were open, sucking on patches of skin between catching much needed breaths.

“Come here,” Carmilla said, fingers grasping sweat soaked black hair.  There was a bright red streak in it that made her smile every time she saw it.

Lill crawled up her body slowly, leaving kisses, licks, and nips across her skin as she moved.  Carmilla smiled up at her when they were finally face to face, stretching up to try and catch a kiss from her mouth.  Lill smirked, ducking her head to reach Carmilla's neck.

“Oh,” hummed Carmilla when warm kisses scattered beneath her jaw, letting her head fall to give her lover more space.  She jumped when teeth dug into her neck just above her collarbone.  It thrilled her even as it chilled her.  “That's not the -” her voice hitched beneath suction, “place.”

Lill's voice was smug.  “Certainly seems to do the job.”

Carmilla caught her face with a hand, holding her still so she could kiss her properly.  “I'm into biting.  You knew that already,” she conceded between slow kisses.  When she pulled back it was deliberate, needing to see Lill's face.  “It wouldn't do what you're thinking.”  She breathed deep, Lill sliding off her chest to rest beside her.  “It's not something to rush into, cupcake.”

“Who's rushing?” countered Lill.  One arm curled across Carmilla's shoulder, resting her chin on her elbow.  “But it's not a hard decision.  Living without you or living forever with you?  That's the easiest choice I've ever made.”

“You're not living without me.  I'm not going anywhere you're not.”

“Carmilla -”

“Lillemor -” Carmilla echoed in the same tone.  “You're just saying all of this because of the great sex.”  She grinned, Lill pinching her side hard.

“I could have great sex with someone else if you'd like,” Lill teased right back.  Carmilla's growl made the mattress tremble, the vampire suddenly above her, kissing her deep and hard.  Lill curled a leg behind her, locking her in place.  “The sex isn't what matters to me, Carm,” said Lill between kisses that stole her breath and nearly took her sense along with it.  “You're what matters to me.  Getting as much time with you as I can.  That is what matters to me,” she continued when Carmilla stopped kissing her.  “I love you.”

Smiling the way she only did at Lill, Carmilla took a breath.  “I love you too.  But you still need to think about this.”

“What do you think I've been doing for the last two days?”

“Great sex with a stranger?” guessed Carmilla sarcastically, rocking her hips forward slowly.  Lill's eyes rolled back in her head so she couldn't see Carmilla's smug smile.

Lill wasn't unaware enough to miss dragging her nails down Carmilla's back to dig them into her ass, prompting another firm push.  “Not so much,” gasped out Lill.  “I was thinking about you.  Turning me.”

Carmilla abruptly fell to the side, falling onto her back.  “It's not that simple and you know it.”  She stretched, curling her arms behind her head.  Lill squirmed down the bed to pillow her head on the vampire's middle.  “You would have to die.”

“I know all of that.  You've told me all about it.”

“Because I need you to understand what it is you're asking me -” Carmilla cut in, more heated than she'd meant to be.

Lill didn't raise her head or her tone.  “We've had this fight already, Carm.  I'm not going to do it again.”

Soft fingers found the pulse in her neck.  Steady and strong.  Lill's life.  It should be hers to use – to live to its fullest, grow old, die when her time was spent.  Not when she was barely nineteen.  She hadn't lived at all.

“I know what you're thinking,” Lill said, quiet and low.  “You're thinking that I'm too young to know anything about life, and maybe you're right.  But I'm not just some kid.  I've seen death up close.  Not the same way you have, obviously, but I'm not sure my experience watching my mother die a day at a time for months isn't on some level -”

“I know, Lill,” Carmilla hushed her gently, able to hear the emotion rising in her voice.  She could feel it too in the jumping beat under her fingers.  “I know you've experienced death.  It's something else to deliver it.  The... longing for it, to cause it and feed on the aftermath, it is something you can't imagine.”

Lill didn't look at her, only nestled her head against Camilla.  “You told me that you don't kill people.”

“I haven't in a while,” Carmilla said easily, free hand curling into a fist behind her head.  “But I'm almost three hundred years older than you, cupcake.  Spans of time mean different things to each of us.  Twenty years is your whole life.  For me -”

“I really don't need you to do the math for me.”

Carmilla sat up just enough to kiss Lill's forehead.  “I've loved you for all of it,” she promised in a whisper.  Shifting to lean back against the wall made Lill turn to maintain her position, pillowing her head on Carmilla's thigh.

“I want to love you forever.  Just like this.”

Carmilla's gaze drifted up toward the skylight.  Sitting up, she could almost just reach the latch if she stretched.  “Forever's a long time, sweetheart.  To love someone.”  She breathed deep.  “To regret a choice.”

Lill's next breath was a huff.  “You don't get to decide what I might regret.   _ Or _ how I feel about you.”  She sat up abruptly.  Carmilla's fingers were jerked free from her hair by the unexpected motion.  She turned from side to side, pulling her shirt over her head when she found it.  “This isn't a choice you can make for me.”

Carmilla didn't move, reclining naked with the sweat from their exertions drying on her chest.  “I'm not trying to,” she said slowly.  “I just want you to understand what it means.  Everything that it means.”  Leaning over the side of the bed she found her previously discarded shirt, pulling it on over her shoulders without buttoning it.

“So tell me,” requested Lill, sensing the earnest tone of the conversation.

They'd been over the more murdersome and unpleasant aspects of the turn more than once so Carmilla started elsewhere, with the part of this whole idea that scared her deepest down, in a place inside her that she couldn't even name.

“My mother.”

Lill's mouth fell open but she didn't speak, watching the flow of emotions cross Carmilla's face.

“If we do this, to have the kind of life we want, we have to run far enough and fast enough that she never finds us.  We might never stop running.  We couldn't stay here.  Or likely anywhere in Europe at all.  You'd probably never see your father again.  We'd have to leave LaFontaine and Perry.  You'd be leaving everything familiar behind.”

From an even deeper, more unknowable place came the truth she knew but couldn't ever speak.  For them to do this and survive, Lilita Morgan must die.

The silence fell, loaded and still, like a mist that hovered just over the floor, leaving them isolated in the middle of the island of Carmilla's bed.

“So,” Lill started slowly, quiet until the tension bled down into something that felt more manageable.  “Your mother is the one who turned you, right?”  Carmilla inclined her head in agreement but didn't speak.  “So if you turn me -?”

Breath escaped through her nose in a scoff.  “I will never be your mother, cupcake,” Carmilla denied, voice flat but with a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

“So what then?”  Lill grinned, pleased with teasing her.

“You're mine.”  Carmilla's answer was simple.  “Mine to love, to annoy,” Lill's grin grew, “to save.”  Carmilla sighed, looking into her face.  “I've found you so many times over the centuries and I have tried so hard to save you -”

“This is the way,” Lill cut in, smile softening, her voice low.

Carmilla scratched gently at her scalp without acknowledging the statement.  It could never be so simple.  If she did this – turned Lill and fled – her mother would know.  She would know and her reaction would be swift and likely terrible.  As soon as she didn't arrive in Styria for the sacrifice Maman would know.  Probably the sacrifice would keep the elder vampire from pursuing them herself.  At least right away.  Carmilla had no doubt that her mother would be coming after her personally.  It would hurt more to ruin her life from a close range.  Maman would want to watch the fear and pain she would cause, to savor it for as long as she could draw it out.  Newly turned was scarcely better than human when it came to facing as ancient a vampire as her mother.

Whatever she did, Lill would be a liability.  Human or vampire, Mother would kill her to extend Carmilla's own destruction.

“I have tried for so long to defy her,” Carmilla said, eyes up to catch glimpses of starlight through the window overhead.  “This will be the last time.”

She would kill Maman, or be killed.  Turning Lill before would only sentence her to life as a vampire.  If Carmilla made it through, she could always turn her after they were safely beyond her mother's reach.  There was no such thing while the master vampire lived.

“Tell me what you're thinking.”  Lill's whisper drew her back from her increasingly morose thoughts.  “So I can tell you it's crazy and it's not going to happen.”

It made her smile, still watching the stars.  “You don't need to be a vampire.  Not if my mother kills me.”  Fingers resumed idly stroking dark hair.

“She's not – I – Carmilla!”  Lill sat up, staring at her in shocked dismay.

Shrugging her shoulders, Carmilla only smiled.  “Just telling you the truth.  We can't get away from her, so I'm going to have to kill her.”  Her chest rose and fell with a slow breath.  “If I don't win then I want you to have a normal life.  If I do then we'll have all the time in the world.”

“She's your mother -”

“Only until I'm in her way.”

“I don't want you to kill your mother.”

Carmilla sighed, shaking her head.  “We don't have many options, sweetheart.  I've got to go to Stryia and kill her.”

“Or we run,” countered Lill.  “We run and you turn me and teach me how to help you.”  Her hands found the sides of Carmilla's shirt and the vampire's dark gaze fell to meet her eyes.  “We're together, Carm.  I want to help.”  One smooth eyebrow arched at her in question.  “Well, not with killing people, but I don't want you to have to kill anyone either.”

“It's not going to work, creampuff.  We can't run far enough or fast enough.”  Carmilla was resigned.  She knew exactly what she had to do.

“Mattie!  Your sister will help us!”

She certainly would do what she could.  The problem remained that Maman would retaliate.  There would be no peace for any of them.  Lill's mother had been a wonderful woman from all accounts.  She simply couldn't comprehend the depths of darkness that resided within Carmilla's mother.

“What do you want to do?” Carmilla asked patiently, breathing deep.  Lill's grip on her shirt had loosened and she lifted her lover's hands one at a time to her mouth, kissing each softly.  “I'll do anything you tell me to do.”

Lill searched her face, lacing their fingers and crawling up to straddle her lap.  “I don't want to lose you.  So you're not going to Styria but we are going to leave together.  The rest we'll figure out as we go along.”  She smiled and it was hopeful.  “How does that sound?”

Smiling in spite of herself, Carmilla shook her head.  “Like we're still probably going to get killed.  But if we're going to go, we need to leave now.  Tonight.”

“Tomorrow,” Lill negotiated.  “You can't just leave LaFontaine and Perry in the middle of the night.”  She climbed off the bed, searching for her pants.  “I need to say goodbye to my father.”

Carmilla started to stand, follow her.  “I'll walk you home.”

Lill's pants were only hanging on her hips but her hands caught Carmilla by the shoulders.  “It's almost sunup.  There's no time for you to walk me and get home yourself.  Don't worry about it.  I'll call you when I get home.”

A cocked eyebrow and smirk greeted her, Carmilla resting both hands on Lill's hips.  “You know that's part of the deal if I turn you.”

“When you turn me, we'll spend the days together,” Lill reminded her, swaying from side to side with a smile.  She leaned in, kissing her softly.  “I love you.”

“I love you too,” echoed Carmilla, dragging the tips of her fingers across the line of Lill's pants, doing up the button for her.  She was deliberately slow as she dragged the zipper up.  “Until tomorrow.”

Lill bounced on her toes, kissing her more firmly.  Her arms wound around Carmilla's shoulders, their bodies pressed together.  They disengaged slowly, foreheads touching.  “Tomorrow,” Lill echoed breathlessly, taking a step back.  Carmilla hauled herself back in with a hand hooked at her waist, blistering her lips with another kiss.  Lill forced herself back when the warm lips moved to her neck.  “No!  I'm not going to see my dad with a hickey.”

Carmilla smirked but released her.  “Fine.”  A thumb swiped across Lill's lips.  They were swollen, smudged.  Some sense deep inside her made her think suddenly that she would remember this moment for however long she lived.  “Take all the time you need with him,” she urged more seriously.  “If you don't – you can change your mind.”

Lill didn't argue but glared.  “I'll see you in the morning,” she emphasized pointedly.

“Call me -”

Lill's smile was affectionate.  “I will.”  She waved from the doorway.  “I love you.”

Carmilla could hear her taking the stairs down to the ground, crossing the lawn, the slap of dirty sneakers on the concrete of the sidewalk.  It was a short walk across town but even vampire hearing wasn't up to the task of tracking her for the whole trek.

It should have taken ten minutes for her to get home.  Carmilla gave her fifteen to call before she started getting worried.

There was no real reason to be nervous except that she'd spent the last hour contemplating destroying her mother.  It tended to make a girl jumpy.

It was cold outside but not snowing, overcast but not enough that she could walk freely.  Carmilla wasn't new, knew how best to stay in the shadows but it was slow going.  The scent of blood took her less than a mile to track.  It was a messy kill just by the smell of it.  More than one person's blood.  Something cold and icy formed in the middle of Carmilla's stomach.  Her feet moved faster.

The shadows were deep in the alley she found herself in, the walls close between Lill's apartment building and the hardware store next door.  She nearly tripped over the body.

Carmilla wasn't breathing, didn't register the absence of air in her lungs.  She could still feel her chest burning as if her lungs were actually deprived of oxygen.  Something like a pulse pounded a beat through her head.  She inhaled deliberately, already sure of what she'd find.

The mix of familiar scents made her sick.  Brody and Deanne.  

Lill.  

And Will.

“I'll kill you for this,” she promised the dark, sure that he was listening.  “You think you can hide behind Mother's skirts, but you're going to wish you'd never even been born human before I'm done with you.”

“I heard you.  You want to kill Mother.  Because of this stupid girl.”  His voice came from above, Carmilla's eyes snapping up to track him on the roof line overhead.  He was crouched on the fire escape to avoid the rising sun.

Carmilla's roar filled the space between the buildings.  “I've longed for her death for longer than you can imagine.  You'll long for your own death before the end,” she promised, voice made all the more chilling for its calmness.  “Everything you care about, I'm going to take it away.”  Their eyes met through the dusky, growing light.  “You'll never be happy again, if you ever were.”

Realizing slowly that she wasn't going to scale the ladder and destroy him, Will edged further into shade.  “You're letting me go?”

Carmilla's answer was a scoff that longed to become a sob as her gaze fell to the ruined life at her feet.  “You aren't going to be so lucky, brother.  You'll wish I'd killed you quickly before it's over.”

He had vanished when she took another look up, fleeing the sun as much as her.  The fool could only hope to be burnt to ashes before she caught up to him.  Right now though she had something more important to do.

He'd drained her, leaving Lill's skin already cool to the touch.  Worse, he’d torn her apart, ripped and shredded her body.  There was no coming back from what he’d done to her.  Not as anything Lill would ever tolerate being.  Abruptly Carmilla slumped toward the wall and was violently sick.  There was nothing in her stomach but acid.  She coughed and spit when she was done, reaching up to wipe her mouth and finding tears beneath her fingertips.

She dropped suddenly, knees too weak to hold her up.  The ground greeted her with a sold thump and she lost the slippery hold she'd had on her composure.  Drawing her knees to her chest she could only cry.


	25. August 20, 1974 - Gotland, Sweden

**** It was the second time Perry had helped Carmilla pack for Silas.  The second time her friend had helped her get ready to seduce her mother’s marks for reasons she still didn’t truly understand after almost three hundred years but knew were no good.  She felt like she was making Perry an accessory to her mother’s crimes and her stomach turned.  But she couldn’t refuse the help because the thought of throwing her things into her duffel and then leaving Gotland broke a part of her she thought was already long broken.

So she sat curled on her bed as Perry selected items to refold before carefully tucking them into the huge, battered old duffel.  And it was obvious Perry was choosing Carmilla’s least favorite clothes.  Twenty years ago, Carmilla had packed for herself and come back months later without a single thing she’d taken, having fled shortly after her job was done and not even remembering a jacket on her careening journey back to Amsterdam.  Now, Perry selected the most out of style options from Carmilla’s closet, the peasant blouses and miniskirts and flared trousers, a mishmash of 50’s and 60’s fashions.  Simple tee shirts and jeans were left in their drawers, the thick comfy bathrobe on the hook in the bathroom.

“I’m going to look like I’ve been living in a cave for a decade, Perr,” she remarked as Perry refolded a fringed buckskin vest before packing it.

“Well, if you’re not going to bring anything back, best to leave behind the things you should have gotten rid of already,” Perry replied, a frown twisting her face.  She huffed.  “I wish you didn’t have to do this.”  A bitter laugh was Carmilla’s only reply.  When all the clothes were packed, Perry clucked her tongue and fetched some other basic necessities – two towels, soap and comb, and a small makeup kit Perry had bought for a business trip.  “Are you bringing any books?  Your turntable?”

Carmilla sighed, looking at the Sony boombox that would be easier to transport than her old turntable.  But the boombox had been a Hannukah gift from Perry – not something she was willing to sacrifice.  “I’ll take that little portable radio from the office if you don’t mind.  It’s already old, and I’ll replace it if I have to.”

“Does that hellhole even get radio reception?” Perry asked with a snort.

“There’s a campus radio station that wasn’t bad last time I was there.”  Carmilla shrugged.  “And on a good day I could get a couple other stations.”  An Austrian pop station and a Yugoslavian classical channel, broadcasting in Slovene, but it was music.  A reminder of the world outside her Mother’s domain, a reminder of the beauty that could exists side-by-side with destruction and misery.

“Books?” Perry asked, as she pulled out the towels to use to pad around the radio.

“Just a couple,” Carmilla said as she tossed a few decrepit paperbacks in.  The last time at Silas, she’d brought her first edition of Turgenev’s  _ Fathers and Sons _ , and ended up abandoning it in her room when she fled after her final victim was delivered to her Mother.  

Soon she was packed for the semester and she shrugged into her leather jacket, the one nice piece of clothing besides her boots that she was bringing.  Shouldering the obscenely heavy (by human standards) duffel, she stomped down from the attic, Perry trailing behind her, frowning.

LaFontaine was pacing in the front hall, wringing their hands.  A small wrapped package sat on the table next to the door.

“God, you two, don’t make a production of this,” Carmilla groaned.

LaFontaine shook their head.  “We need you to know some things before you go.”  They took the package off the table and shoved it into Carmilla’s stomach, forcing her to grab ahold lest it fall.  They waved their hands at the package, motioning for her to open it.

Sighing, she set down her duffel with a thud and complied.  Inside the box were three studded leather cuffs.  One had three rows of studs, another two, and the last only a single row.  They were well-made, the leather supple and soft against her fingers.  And they were definitely her style, even if they’d clash with most of the clothes Perry had packed for her.  A delicate eyebrow rose at her two friends, who were standing next to one another holding hands.  “They’re nice, guys, uh, thanks?”

Huffing, Perry glared at her partner briefly before turning back to Carmilla.  “LaFontaine is obviously not going to explain this properly, so I will.  It’s a reminder of what’s important, for you to carry with you.”  She plucked the single-row cuff out of the box and fastened it on Carmilla’s wrist.  “One person,” she said as she fastened the two-row cuff next to the first, “meets two people.”  Finally, she took the three-row cuff out and flipped it over, displaying the engraving in the leather –  _ To Our Daughter _ – before she fastened it on Carmilla’s other wrist.  “And we become a family.”  She reached up, cupping Carmilla’s cheek.  “You are our  _ family _ , Carmilla.  And you need to remember that we love you, so much.  We know exactly what you are going to be doing, and we love you still.  Always.”

As Perry had been fastening the cuffs onto Carmilla’s wrists, LaFontaine had moved forward and when their partner was finished speaking they drew Carmilla into a bearhug.  “You come back to us as quick as you can, you understand?  We’ll be here, waiting for you,” they said into her hair as they held her close.

In a flash Carmilla had drawn Perry into the hug and she held them to her, the embrace bordering on painful for the two mortals.  When her hold loosened, the two drew back and each planted a kiss on her cheeks.  Her eyes watery, she stepped back, looked down at the cuffs around her wrists, and grabbed the duffel before stomping out the front door.

They turned to watch her walk down the street towards the ferry station.  “She’ll be back, right?” Perry asked worriedly.

“She will,” LaFontaine said, one hand rubbing soothing circles into their partner’s back.  “She will.”


	26. March 26, 1993 - Stockholm, Sweden

The lights were low all the time, during the day, all night.  Carmilla had only just arrived home but, of course, preferred the dark.  Perry absolutely did, these days.  She couldn't do any more than lie in bed and anything above the light from the lamp hurt her eyes.

Carmilla had been away, pursuing William across Asia and America.  He'd thought avoiding Europe would keep him safe but he'd been wrong.  So wrong.

She'd been in New York City when LaFontaine had called with the information that the struggle that Perry had been waging against her cancer had pitched rather irretrievably against them.  “Get home while she still knows who you are,” had been their exact words, having to shout to be heard over the noise of the bar Carmilla had called from.

They'd moved to Stockholm since she'd left, to expand the gallery and to be closer to the hospital.  The house smelled like illness and wasn't familiar.  They'd set her room up as if she'd never left – books on the shelves and clothes in the closet.  Her motorcycle was dusty but perfectly functional in the garage.

Perry's head turned against the pillow, eyes pushing themselves open.  She spotted Carmilla in the dark, a smile floating across her features.  “Darling.  You're here.”

Rising from her seat, Carmilla crossed the room in a silent blink.  One second she was at the window, the next she was leaning over Perry and holding her hand.  “Hey, Perr.”  She dropped her face down, allowing her friend to kiss her cheek.  “I've missed you.”  Weak hands scrabbled at her shirt and Carmilla could feel her heart sink.  She'd been gone too long.  She took both hands as she sat down, holding them carefully between her own.

“And who is the one who left home?” Perry reminded her, pointed in spite of her weakness.  She tried to cluck the way she always had and coughed instead.

“I know,” answered Carmilla, reaching forward to push white curls back.  “I came home as soon as LaFontaine told me -”

“You should never have left, chasing after that girl.”

“I was going after – never mind.  It doesn't matter right now.”  Her entire revenge felt petty and stupid in the moment.  She should have been here, with Perry and LaFontaine - the people who'd loved her better than her own family.  “I'm here now.  I'm home.”

Perry blinked, her smile growing again.  “Well, look who's here!  My girl came home!”  She shakily squeezed Carmilla's hand.  “You best come in here and give me a hug,” she requested, as if Carmilla hadn't just done so.

She did it again without complaining, ice spreading across the jagged shards of her heart.  Nothing she could do would save Perry and what good was it anyway?  She'd never been able to save anyone she loved.

Perry's arms locked tighter around her than she'd managed the first time.  “We've always loved you.”

Throat tight, Carmilla buried her face in Perry's shoulder.  It had been a handy cover story over the years but Perry had thrived in the role of parent even more than LaFontaine had.  Carmilla couldn't imagine losing a mother could actually hurt worse than this.

“I love you too, Perr.”

LaFontaine's gentle knock on the door frame drew her back.  They didn't say anything when Carmilla faced the dark corner of the room to wipe her eyes before she turned to face them.  “Hey, sweetie.”  Carmilla nearly lifted them off their feet with her hug.  “Welcome home.  I see you found the place alright.”

“Yeah, thanks.”  Carmilla pushed her hair back with one hand.  “Should we -?”  She nodded toward the hallway.  Moving in harmony, they both turned to look at Perry, who was now dozing peacefully in her bed.  “How are you holding up?” she asked once LaFontaine had pulled the door nearly closed behind them.

They laughed hoarsely, head shaking from side to side and the sound hollow.  “I'm not really.  You know I've always been a wreck without her.” 

Carmilla reached to put an arm around them but restrained herself to a pat on the shoulder.  There was nothing she could say, so she stayed quiet, hoping that her presence helped in some small way.

“Can I – ask you something?”  Carmilla nodded without speaking, her arms crossed over her middle.  “With you and Lill and all the others, you always find each other, right?”  She arched a brow, waiting for them to finish the question.  LaFontaine dropped their gaze, hands fidgeting restlessly.  “Do you think -?”

Two cool hands caught theirs, a shadow falling across their sightline as Carmilla stepped closer.  Their chests were nearly touching.  “There is no doubt in my mind that you and Perry will find each other again.  You will.”  LaFontaine took a shaky breath.  Carmilla closed the contact, pulling them into her arms.  Her cheek rested on their head and she could feel their hands fisted in her shirt.  “I'm counting on it, to tell the truth.”

Laughter was choked with tears.  “Yeah, me too.”  They lingered in the embrace until their emotional control reasserted itself, wiping their eyes as they stepped back.  “Alright, I have a roast in the oven but I need to go down to the hospital before we eat.”

Carmilla frowned, instinctively looking over her shoulder at the bedroom door.  “Do I need to -?”

“No, let her sleep,” LaFontaine answered easily, waving her off.  “I just need to pick up some blood for you.”

“Oh, no, don't -”

They stepped up close again, clinically examining her eyes, the shadowy bruises that perpetually stained her face.  “When's the last time you ate?”  They reached up without waiting for an answer, thumb swiping across her brow.  The hand cupped her cheek.  “It's been at least a few days, by the look of you.”

“LaF -” Carmilla tried to protest just as her stomach growled.  “It's no big deal.”

Blue eyes narrowed up at her.  “You just stay with Perry.  She's been asking for you, the last few days.”  They kissed her cheek swiftly.  “I'll be home soon.”  Carmilla could only stand silently as they went into the bedroom to kiss Perry lightly.  She could hear the soft murmurs of affection but hummed to give them privacy.

The house was too quiet, too thick with the scent of sickness.  It made Carmilla sick to her stomach.  The air in the bedroom was stifled and close.  Carmilla pushed the window open a crack, just to let a burst of cool air into the room.  With it came the sounds of the city – cars and sirens, people and music.

It was so different from their home on the coast in Gotland that it made her chest ache.  For all that she'd lived in many cities all over the world that quiet house at the beach had been her  _ home _ , the first she'd had in ages.  It was the place she'd had a family.  She hadn't let herself admit how much she'd missed it, and them.

Carmilla sat down to watch Perry sleep with a gnawing ache in her gut.  She'd nearly dozed off when the phone ringing in the other room woke her with a jump.  Fortunately it hadn't woken Perry.  She pulled the door behind her as she went to answer it.

“What?”

Taken aback by the greeting, it took the other end a second to respond.  “Is this the Perry residence?”

“Yeah, who's this?”

“Is Mrs. Perry available?  It's about LaFontaine?”  Unsure how to pronounce their name, the speaker's voice went high, making it a question.

“No, she's not well.  This is their daughter.  Who is this?”

“Carmilla Karnstein?” they checked.

“Yes, now what the hell is happening?”  She knew exactly where they'd gotten her name.  Perry had made them all matching emergency cards.  Just in case.  “Are they okay?”

The pause told her everything she needed to know, the icy feeling around her heart expanding to her stomach.  Her entire body felt numb.  “I'm very sorry to have to tell you this, Miss Karnstein, but your -”

“Parent,” Carmilla supplied, habit making her speak.

“Your parent has passed away.”

Carmilla swallowed, legs going weak.  She had to catch herself on the edge of the end table.  “What happened?” she croaked.  “How?”  Without waiting for an answer.  “They were just going out to get dinner.”  She sat on the arm of the couch, slouched and limp.  The phone creaked in her hand.

“There was an accident.  A drunk driver hopped the curb.  Your parent was walking on the sidewalk.”

Unable to hear more, Carmiila hung it up without speaking.  Her hand knocked the phone right back off its cradle.  It was unreal.  LaFontaine had just been there, hugging her.  They'd only gone out to get food for her.  Now they were dead?  Fickle and arbitrary as she knew death was, this was too much.

How could she live without her friend?  How could Perry -?  Gods above and below, she was going to have to walk into the bedroom and tell Perry that LaFontaine was gone.

Falling forward, Carmilla hyperventilated between her knees.  She had to catch herself on her hands to keep her body from collapsing to the floor.  It felt like an eternity before she could breathe again, on the floor against the couch.

Her hands were trembling when she pushed herself to her feet.  There was no help for it.  She had to tell Perry and it wouldn't be any easier for waiting.  She deserved to know what had happened to her spouse.

Carmilla had only just pushed the door but she could smell it.  The scent of death was usually something she appreciated.  This was thick, hung in her lungs, her chest, choking her.

An unbidden urge to laugh overwhelmed her, tears falling more rapidly than she could restrain them.  She fell again to the floor, on her knees.  The laughter wouldn't stop any more than the tears could be stopped.

She'd always known the two of them would be together forever.  She'd envied it every day she'd known them.  For all of forty years.  The laughter became choking sobs that hurt her ribs.  She fell forward onto her arms, hair dragging the carpet as she cried bitterly for more lives lost.

Tonight they'd proven her right.

Not even death would separate them.

Gods, did she hate being right.

 


	27. June 2-6, 1993 - Paris, France

**June 2, 1993**

Carmilla couldn't hear anything over the pounding beat of the club.  It had changed a lot in the last hundred years, had a new manager since she hadn't stayed in Paris in a lifetime, but it was still her place.  One of the bartenders tried to stop her from taking a bottle from behind the counter, though he recoiled from her rumbling growl swiftly enough to avoid having his hand broken.  Her business manager corrected him in hushed tones without Carmilla waiting for the oversight to be corrected, her chosen bottle in her hand.

The back room of _Lorelei's_ was now crowded with amps and speakers but Carmilla simply ignored it and made herself comfortable among the chaos.  The bottle was all the company she needed.  She could hear the music through the wall, feel the press of people around her without the urge to murder any of them who might touch her.

She was only halfway through her bourbon when the door was pushed open ahead of two girls.  The tall redhead was drunk and stumbling, held up by a small blonde girl who had to have just passed her birthday to be allowed inside the bar.  “Dinah, you're too big.  I can't hold you!”

Carmilla didn't move except to pull her legs out of their way.  She knew who it was without her sobriety.  She could _feel_ her even through the haze of drunkeness clouding her senses.  Everything within her awoke, every sense she had alert and abruptly on edge.  She finished another two fingers out of the bottle in one long pull.  Not having to breathe was fantastic.

Maybe her tormented love life had found her yet again.  It didn't mean she had to just sit there and let it happen to her or whatever her love's name was now in her new life.  If she could just get to her feet.  She'd leave in a minute.  Just one more minute and she'd go.

“Layla, hang on, just help me up.”  Dinah wasn't trying to move, was just lying on her face in the pile of junk next to Carmilla.  “Hey,” she said, realizing dimly that they weren't alone like they had probably planned on being when they'd stumbled into Carmilla's sanctuary.

“You're here too, of course,” observed Carmilla dryly, unable to actually observe anything with the way her vision swam.  She closed one eye to try and see more clearly.  “It seems like you get her when I'm not there to get in your way.”  Neither one of them knew what she meant by it but none of the three was in any condition for conversation on the realities of past lives.  “I hope you can make her happy,” she said genuinely, pushing herself unsteadily to her feet.

Layla caught her when she stumbled, their faces suddenly close enough for Carmilla to drown in the brown depths of her eyes.  Dark in the dimness, flecked with gold and green.  “Hey.”  The word touched Carmilla's mouth with the fingers of memory and she had to lick her lips.  Her brow cocked in a cute grimace of drunken concentration.  “Have we met before?”

Biting back a growl, Carmilla jerked herself back from Layla.  She tripped over Dinah's long, sprawled legs and had to catch herself on the wall.  Something fell with a clatter but she didn't check it.  “You shouldn't touch me,” she warned her in a low voice.  “I'll ruin your life.”

Leaving it behind her as the final admonition, Carmilla shoved her way past, back into the crowded main room of the bar.  The neon sign over the bar seemed placed there just to taunt her.   _Lorelei's_ .  Of course she'd seen the name on paperwork but being in the place again, in that room, with her right there in front of her – without a damn clue who she was – _again_.  It was too much.

Green hair caught her eyes and Carmilla finished her bottle as she moved across the room, weaving through the masses like smoke through a crevice.  “You want to get out of here?”  She didn't bother with conversation.  This wasn't going to be anything but a distraction.

Changing the story the last time had blown up in her face pretty spectacularly.  She'd been unable to save Lill.  Layla she was simply going to avoid.  No feelings, no complications.

“Yeah, sure,” came her answer.  Carmilla left the discarded empty bottle spinning slowly on the floor behind her on her way out the door.

 

**June 4, 1993**

“You've got to be fucking kidding me.”  It was some colossal, universal joke.  That's what it was.  Her whole life was just a big laugh for some asshole.  She'd deliberately avoided _Lorelei's_ just so she wouldn't see her.  Carmilla leaned over her drink and hoped not to be noticed.

No such luck, of course.

“Hey, it's you.”  Layla wasn't leaving, standing next to her stool and grinning.

Carmilla scoffed, hoping brusque rudeness would run her off.  Laurel had always hated it when she was short and surly.  “You can remember that?”

“Of course I can!  I wasn't that drunk!”  She was blushing though.

“You get your girlfriend home in one piece?”  Carmilla drained her glass and signaled for another one from the bartender.

The blush brightened.  “Oh, Dinah's not my girlfriend.  We're just friends!”

“Whatever you say, cutie,” grumbled Carmilla into her drink.  Layla wasn't picking up what she felt were quite generous clues, still standing next to her seat and rocking from heel to toe.  “Listen -” she started harshly.

“What did you mean when you said you'd ruin my life?” asked Layla, a frown drawing her brows together.  “Are you sure we don't know each other?”

“That would actually solve a lot of my problems, so no, I'm fairly certain you know nothing about me.”  She slammed her drink again and waved for another.  “As far as ruining your life goes, I mean that I will get you killed.”  The shock was plain on the girl's face.  “If you keeping coming around me I will leave your life a mess of ashes and blood.”  Carmilla didn't blink.  “And then you'll be dead.”

Layla blinked, several times, her mouth open.  “Wow, you're dark.”  She levered herself onto the stool beside Carmilla, ignoring the unintelligible grumble from her unwilling drinking buddy.  “Are you a poet or something?”

She'd written a bit but it wasn't going to be something she told Layla.  Songs for Lorelei that she'd known about.  Poems for Laurel that she hadn't.  Letters for Lill that she'd never had a chance to read.

“You don't have to talk to me.  That's fine.”  

Carmilla had no intention of speaking at all, only sipped her drink.  The oblivion of drunkenness called to her.  A siren's song she wanted to follow.  Especially if it got her out of this conversation.  She signaled with two fingers to the barkeep.  The service wasn't as fast as _Lorelei's_ and she had to pay for the drinks.  The things she did for love.  “I'll take the bottle.”  His protest lasted only until her money was in his hand.  “Have a nice life,” she told Layla directly.  “I sincerely hope we won't be seeing each other.”

She made it a dozen steps outside the door before Layla was on her trail.  “How come you hate me?  We just met the once, or so you say, but you seem to really hate me.  If I did something to offend you -”

Carmilla spun on her heel, was on her in a second.  Layla recoiled, stumbling backwards until she collided with the brick wall of the bar.  “I wish I hated you,” hissed Carmilla, too close to her.  Her forearms braced against the wall on either side of Layla's head.  “I almost wish that I could.”  She breathed deep, held it, letting it out in a staggered, shuddering exhale.  Pressed this close, she could almost forget that she was at the very beginning of what was undoubtedly a downward spiral, poised on the peak of a long, fatal fall.  She could nearly pretend that she was simply a girl in love.  Without the complications and the pain.  Looking into Layla's face, she felt her own bitter resolve crumble and melt.

Able to see it as only she could, Layla's mouth quirked in a smile.  “See?  There's a nice girl in there after all.  I knew it.”

Carmilla's fist struck the wall with enough force to shatter the brick.  In her other hand the glass neck of the bottle of liquor cracked in her grip but didn't burst.  “You have no idea what you're talking about.  Stay the hell away from me.”  Feeling every bit a stereotype, she turned to disappear into foggy night.

 

**June 6, 1993**

It was easy, on occasion, to lose herself in another person.  Sex was one way.  Alcohol helped as well.  Blood, she'd found, was the simplest way to bury herself though, being what she was.  A bit of all three and she could let her whole life go.  All the centuries, the people she'd lost, she could forget it between some girl's legs, at the bottom of a bottle, in the rapid pulse pounding away beneath soft skin.  Gasps in her ear of both pleasure and pain were music in a way the beat from the speakers simply wasn't.

One hand easily held the girl's wrist at the optimum angle, holding her still also preventing Carmilla from tearing a vein entirely open with her fangs.  Sipping slowly let them both enjoy this longer.  Her other hand was working its way into her companion's appreciatively tight jeans.  The buttons of her fly popped open with just enough speed to heighten anticipation without dragging out the proceedings unnecessarily.  She wasn't magnanimously distributing pleasure.  She was here to feed and fuck and move on.  Carmilla wasn't so unfair as to not get the girls she'd pulled from the crowd to her orgasm.  It was only fair, as she was drinking their blood at the same time she was getting them off.

“I can't imagine why she's so hung up on you.”  The voice behind her was deliberately loud, the announcement made to draw her out of what she was doing.  Trying to bait her.  Carmilla only pulled harder on the vein beneath her teeth, fingers only just finding their goal below her dinner's waist.  “You scared the crap out of her the other night, frightened her half to death, but you're here literally screwing someone in a public bathroom.”  A heavy hand landed on Carmilla's shoulder, pulling her unsteadily away from her dining.  “Hey!  You're going to listen to me!”

Drunk, Dinah swayed on her feet, blinking and staring at the red stain on Carmilla's lips.  Blood seeped from the corner of her mouth and Carmilla licked her lips slowly to make it all the more obscene.  Between the drinks and the blood, she felt pleasantly out of her mind.  It seemed possible that the girl she'd been eating wasn't just drunk, but high.  She didn't usually feel this way so early in the feed.

“I'm pretty sick of you too, Big Red,” confessed Carmilla, voice slurred.  Behind them, her dinner took the opportunity to depart, hazy and cupping the seeping wound on her wrist.  She likely wouldn't remember a thing.  It was too fantastic and without any clear memories, she'd write it off as a nightmare, a side effect of the drugs, anything but what it was.

Left alone with the erstwhile rival for her love's affections, Carmilla felt already raw nerves grow tighter, more strained.  She wasn't in the mood for this tonight.  Or anytime this decade, really.

Instead of leaving though, she stepped forward.  Dinah matched her, sealing her fate as far as the vampire was concerned.  “Oh, yeah, why's that?!” snapped the fuming redhead.

Dinah had a good six inches on her but Carmilla only got closer, her voice a growl.  “Because you're always there.  The minute I'm not there, you are.”  A hundred years of frustration rose up like a tide, irrepressible and strong.  It pulled her under.  “You know what?  I can be the bigger person here.  I'm capable of admitting that you're probably better for her.  You're not the one who gets her killed.  I should just walk away and let her be happy enough with you.  I'm trying here!  Whatever I try, though, she dies.  I'm with her, she dies!  I try and save her, she dies!  I sat on the sidelines and had to hear about every time you fucked her, and every time you made her cry!  Every time you made her happy I wanted to throw myself off the fucking bridge.  Do you know that?  I'm sure she did back then!  Daniella!  She had her problems with me.  We all knew it!  Laurel wanted us to be friends but it was never going to happen.  You and I can't be friends!  Because no matter who I am to her, or even who you are to her, she is _mine._ In every way it's possible to know someone and love them, I know her and I love her.  Maybe she chooses you, but she is still mine to – to make crazy, and to protect, and to love.”

Dinah recoiled but slowly, seeing the edge Carmilla was walking along with more clarity than Carmilla could see it herself.  A sudden movement might just pitch her over the side.  “You're the one who's crazy.  Stay away from her.”  

Whatever distance she thought was enough to protect her, it wasn't enough.

Her height made it awkward but Carmilla was past caring if it hurt when she wrenched Dinah's head down into range for her teeth.  The other girl was muscled like an athlete but didn't have the strength to struggle.  Carmilla heard a whimper before all she could hear, feel, see, or taste was blood.  The fresh blood she'd already had was singing, pumping and pounding through her body.  Making her heart race and her head throb.

There was nothing but blood, warm and wet in her mouth.  Her heartbeat increasing its pace while the one she fed on slowed.  Nothing else mattered.

Except, as always in her damned eternal life, there remained her one exception.

“Dinah!  Oh my God, you're killing her!”  Tiny hands furiously struck her back.

Snapping out of her feed, Carmilla felt it all go tense – her lust, her love, her control, her self – all tight and teetering.  One beat.  Green eyes, scared and familiar in a way that ate a hole inside her.

“I know you can stop this.  You don't have to do this.”

Carmilla snapped, losing everything to the growling, prowling beast in her chest.  Dinah dropped to the floor, unconscious or dead, she didn't know.

Layla recoiled with a scream that wouldn't be heard over the music of the club.  Stumbling over her friend's body, she did her best to retreat from the panther now facing her.  There was nowhere to go, however.

The rumbling of her growling seemed to fill the room, Carmilla sniffing the air to savor the fear before moving forward.  Lips pulled back to bare her teeth, intent on tasting the bitter terror in the atmosphere.

She moved soundlessly, crossing the small room in only two paces.  Layla cowered, trying her best not to move when the big cat rose onto her back legs, massive paws planting themselves against the wall on either side of her.  Standing as she was, Carmilla loomed over the diminutive Layla.  She took another deep breath and held it, relishing it.  Deliberately slow, she dropped her head and let her mouth open wider.

There was nothing more or less in her feline mind than blood and the tearing of flesh that would give it to her.  Once movement, one snap of her teeth and this girl would die.  There was something both thrilling and terrifying about that notion.

“Please.”  Face red, streaked with tears, Layla pleaded with her back to the wall.

Carmilla froze, big body rigid.  She could feel the standing hairs on her back relax nearly individually.  It took several heartbeats for the face before her to pierce through the red haze clouding her vision.  Several more for her muscles to loosen, dropping her ungracefully to the floor on her back.

Behind her, the body on the ground drew a sudden breath.  Carmilla twisted sharply, rolling back onto her feet.  Her head held low between her shoulders, she was now the one retreating.  When Layla didn't move Carmilla jerked her head toward Dinah, blowing air hard through her nose.

Lunging forward, the girl hauled her friend's arm over her shoulder.  Unable to lift her, she dragged her as quickly as she was able toward the door.  One eye tried to stay on the hulking cat in the corner, with limited success.  She'd seen more than any rational person could believe tonight but she was still shocked into dropping Dinah when she saw the thick tail disappearing out of the high, small window as black smoke.

Remaining incorporeal until she was miles away from _Lorelei's_ , Carmilla rebuilt herself as her panther self.  The thought of being even vaguely human was much too much.  Her emotions could only escape the big cat as a growling roar that made the windows nearby tremble in their frames.

Sooner than she'd expected though came pounding feet and flashlights.  People seemed to have gotten more idiotic in the last two centuries.  No one should be coming _toward_ the sounds she was making.

They did come and she fled, lacking the drive to fight off a mob tonight.

Carmilla didn't stop running until the rise of city buildings had become tall grass fields.  Winded, she let her body flop out of sight in the grass.  Something primal found it a comfort.  Satisfied that she wasn't being pursued, she let herself succumb to unconsciousness.

Morning, and memory, would come soon enough.

The act was not as simple as the thought, though, and her body couldn't let go enough to sleep deeply.  Instead, she dreamed, waking each time somewhere new.

When she woke it felt as if the world was searing, sunlight peeking though the leaves of the shrub she had finally landed beneath enough to scorch the hand left in the open.

“Son of a -”  Her retreat into shadows was halted abruptly, head cracking into stone and sending white light in waves across her vision.

Carmilla's heart sank even as her vision cleared enough to read the gravestone she'd found shelter beside.   _Lorelei Howell_.  Of course she'd come here.  Even when she was running away from her love she still found herself right beside her tomb.

They were always hazy, her feline memories, at least at first.  They tended to come back in fragments of vivid detail rather sooner than later.  Context could escape her entirely.  She'd nearly killed Dinah, assuming she hadn't succumbed to her neck trauma.  She'd been ready to rip Layla apart.  The one human she had left whose life she chose to protect, to save, and she'd almost destroyed her in a fit of her own rage and despair.

She'd tried to let this thing play out, tried to stop it, tried to ignore it outright.  Every time had blown up in her face.  No matter what she did it felt like a loss.  Doomed before it began, every time.

She supposed she could always kill the next one herself.

The dark thought made the blood in her veins feel like ice.  Carmilla would sooner destroy herself.  What had happened last night, what she'd almost done, it would never happen again.

Sunrise wouldn't allow her to wallow any longer and Carmilla pushed herself to her feet.  She lingered for one extra moment and long final look and to brush the leaves and dust from the aged stone she'd chosen personally.

Back at her place, she surrendered to the urge to call Layla's apartment – she'd found her number after the first night they'd met – but there was no answer.  The light on her answering machine was blinking though and she stabbed the play button.  Her business manager's voice dashed her half-formed hope that it might somehow be Layla.  “There was an incident at the club last night, Boss.”  She cracked a sliver of a smirk, not unused to her exploits falling into that category.  His next sentence destroyed any hope she had left – utterly.  “Two girls got killed outside the place this morning.”


	28. April 19, 2001 - Toronto, Ontario

 

Carmilla wasn’t quite sure how she’d ended up in Canada at all.  The haze of drunkenness hadn’t lifted in a month.  It was always this way in the spring, when Lorelai and Lillemor’s birthdays hit within a week of one another.  She’d drink to not remember when the days crept up on her, she’d drink when they arrived, she’d drink to forget afterwards.  In that way, the entirety of April staggered by in a haze of thick red wine.

And she hadn’t even made it back to her hostel the night before.  She could feel the dirt against her cheek and hear the kind of “whispers” children often made when trying to be quiet - in other words, not at all quiet.  She felt tiny fingers poke her shoulder and opened her eyes, groaning.

“You okay, lady?” asked a small, high-pitched voice.  “You need me to get my daddy?”

“No,” Carmilla gritted out, her tongue thick in her mouth.  Shifting her head slowly, she found herself face to face with wide blue eyes.  

From near her feet she could hear a hiss, “Susan!  Susan, get away from her!”

The wide blue eyes turned.  “We gotta help her, Lola!  She’s sleepin’ in the street!”

“I’m okay, kiddo,” Carmilla groaned out, shifting onto her elbows so she could see both of them.  A pair of tiny redheads met her gaze, one in grass-stained overalls over a Dora the Explorer tee, the other in a spring dress complete with ruffled white socks and patent leather shoes.  Minus the clothes, it was like looking back in time.  Two little kids, hands clasped, like in the black-and-white photograph that had sat next to Perry and LaFontaine’s bed for over forty years.  She blinked, sure she was still drunk.  It didn’t help.  The kids were still there, staring at her, wide-eyed.

She sighed, biting her lip as she tried to figure out what to do with these tiny dopplegangers of her friends.  Especially as she needed to get out of the path of the sun.  “I do need your help, though.  I get sick if the sun shines on me.  Is there somewhere nearby I could spend the day?  That’s nice and dark?”

“You can stay in my fort!” Susan offered, grinning broadly.  “It’s all dark in there if you shut the door and the windows!”

With a pang in her undead heart, Carmilla smiled back at the little ginger.  “That’d be great.” 

“C’mon, then.  Sun’s getting bright!”  Susan stuck out a hand, offering it to help Carmilla off the pavement.  Lola glared but huffed, following along behind her best friend and this adult stranger who had slept in the alley.

The ‘fort’ was a well-made shed, repurposed for a children’s playspace, set in the backyard of a house close by.  Susan led Carmilla inside and immediately shut the door behind Lola before going over to close the thick cotton blinds on the small window.  It was dark for a moment before a light came on.  Carmilla couldn’t help but smile - a little battery-powered lamp was on a child-sized table, complete with a red checked tablecloth and two chairs.  Susan sat down in one, while Lola took the other.  Carmilla folded herself into a comfortable position on the floor and looked around.  It was obviously a space shared by both kids, the two shelves set into one wall displaying that clearly.  One shelf had a small pile of battered children’s science books, a toy microscope, one of those little bug-catching kits, as well as assorted rocks, while the other was the immaculate home of a kids’ tea set as well as half a dozen Boxcar Children paperbacks.

“You can stay here all day if you need to!” Susan offered enthusiastically.  

“Thanks, kid.”  

Her good manners overriding her misgivings, Lola gave a tiny glare as she asked, “You want a drink?”

“Water would be great, thanks.”  Carmilla curled into a ball on her side, watching as the small girl nervously fetched a water bottle from a small cupboard.  She could see a few packs of fruit snacks and animal crackers beside the water bottles and juice boxes.

She sipped at the water for a few minutes as the two kids watched her, fascinated.  Susan fidgeted madly before blurting out, “What’s your name, lady?”

The enthusiasm and friendliness bowled her over.  She couldn’t help but reply, “My friends call me Carm.”

A tiny face screwed up in confusion.  “So what should we call you?”

“Carm, pipsqueak.  You can call me Carm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though I tapdanced around pronouns and gendered nouns as much as possible, I did use LaFontaine's birth name in this chapter. If that upset anyone, I apologize. I was thinking about how I'd write a story set in my own childhood, and I would likely use - or portray other people using - my own birth name for it, so that's what I did with LaF. Especially as the chapter is from Carmilla's perspective, and she doesn't know this LaF's surname. Yet. Future chapters set at Silas will also see LaFontaine misgendered and deadnamed. It's canon. And yes, it's transphobia (Perr, you fucked up). But we'll portray it as gently and carefully as possible as storytellers. And confront it. We promise. - Ressick


	29. November 30, 2012 - Gotland, Sweden

Carmilla fled Silas as if the hounds of hell were on her heels.  It certainly felt like they were, the echo of Perry’s last words making her chest tighter than it’d been since she watched her friends’ coffins lowered into the ground almost twenty years before.  She had no plan, nowhere to be until she was due back at Silas for the sacrifice.

Late November found her clutching a bottle of plum brandy and flopping to the ground in a Visby graveyard after dark.  She’d slunk back to Gotland almost out of habit, nearly walked back into the house she was currently renting out to the woman she’d hired to run Perry’s art gallery.  Instead, she stopped at the liquor store just before it closed and stumbled, sober still but overcome emotionally, until she could see where her friends were buried.  Buried, but alive in Styria.  

She cracked open the bottle, lifting it in a toast towards the single gravestone, and took a long swig of the strong, fruity drink.  She coughed.  She hadn’t had plum brandy in almost twenty years.  She liked it plenty, but it had become a tradition to share a glass with her friends in the evening, a record playing on the turntable and quiet conversation filling up the kitchen after dinner.  After they had died, she could barely look at the bottles on store shelves, reverting to wine and vodka as her alcohols of choice.

“Sorry I haven’t been back,” she muttered, letting the drink warm her up a bit.  She was hungry, too, would have to feed soon.  But the brandy was enough, in that moment.  The aching emptiness of her stomach was nothing next to the hole in her chest.  Another few gulps of brandy and her tongue loosened.  

“You found each other,” she murmured, eyes tracing the inscription on the stone they’d decided on together, that she’d overseen the carving of.

L. Perry ~ LaFontaine

1928-1993

_every day_

She took another swig of brandy and cleared her throat, “You found each other again, and Perr, you just gave up the thing you wanted most in this life, for LaF.  Not that I was surprised.”  Carmilla chuckled, her heart and voice raw, “And LaF, you better appreciate it.  Because she never wants to see me again.”  Another long gulp of brandy.  “And fucking hell, how are you two at Silas?  WHY are you?!  I _can’t_ protect you.  You don’t even know me – Perry, you don’t _want_ to know me!”  The sob broke free against her will, and she let it out into the silent graveyard.  She knew the version of her friend currently clinging to anything ‘normal’ at Silas couldn’t remember her.  Never would, because things like knowing who was a friend – who was _family_ – didn’t pass from one life to the next.  She was constantly restarting with Ell, Lorelei, Laurel, Lill, Layla.  Constantly relearning the girl she loved in whatever brief time she had with her.  She could, with her long unlife, see the similarities in that woman as she passed from life to life, but she was never remembered in return.  

And while she’d watched from afar as _this_ Perry and _this_ LaFontaine grew up together, she could tell they didn’t remember their pasts.  Didn’t recognize the beloved spouse in their best friend’s eyes.  Even though the love was obviously there, it had a new foundation, a new shared history.  Carmilla sobbed, missing her friends keenly.  She gripped at the bottle in her hand, choking down more brandy, hoping for some kind of oblivion.  But it wasn’t there.  Instead, there was the grave not far away where Lill was buried, taunting her with the girl whom she could have had forever with, if not for Will.  Who knew when her love would be reborn again?

Carmilla clutched the brandy with one hand, and the bracelet around her wrist with the other.  She’d lovingly tended to the worn soft leather for almost four decades, the connection to her friends she carried everywhere, no matter what.  Had worn it like a shield since their deaths, protecting her from a loneliness like she’d never known before.  Only Mattie could drag her out of that dark place, and her sister had been so busy, so unavailable for over a decade now.

She pulled out her cell phone, entering the passcode and flipping through her apps until she selected one and had to enter another passcode, the heightened layer of security protecting a folder full of pictures.  She chose one, and propped her phone up against the headstone, lying down next to it, her head buzzing with alcohol.

One of the last photographs she’d taken of her Perry and LaFontaine, it showed the older couple curled up on the sofa, cuddled together like they’d done so often.  LaFontaine dozed, while Perry looked straight at the camera – at Carmilla – with open, brazen affection.  It was so different from the fear and distaste she’d experienced so recently coming from the young woman at Silas.  

Carmilla told herself that she’d _had_ to scare Perry.  Had to make sure she did nothing while under her mother’s eye to imply any affection, any love, for the younger woman.  Had to protect Perry and LaFontaine from her mother.  And if she could scare Perry out of Silas altogether, that could only be for the best in the long run.  Even if she couldn’t be in their lives this time, at least they would be alive and together, away from her mother’s machinations and the claws of her influence.  But the reaction to her words and threats made Carmilla ill while trapped in that room.  Still made her ill.

Heaving, she tried to control her stomach.  She wouldn’t throw up on her friends’ graves.  She let the spasms subside, concentrated on the photograph, the memories she needed.  It hurt more than she could have imagined, to have Perry disavow her.  Carmilla reached out, her finger hovering just above the touchscreen over her friends’ faces, before she reached up to trace their names on the headstone, her fingers digging into the cold granite.  Pillowing her head against the base, she let herself drift, imagining she was in her warm bed a few miles away, her friends slow dancing in the living room to one of their favorite records.

Carmilla sung to herself, snatches of the song LaFontaine and Perry had declared “theirs” when they were still young and that she must have heard thousands of times in the years they all spent together.

 _Be my love_  
_And with your kisses set me burning_  
_One kiss is all I need to seal my fate_  
_And hand in hand_  
_We'll find love's promised land_  
_There'll be no one but you for me_  
_Eternally_  
_If you will be my love_

The alcohol stopped warming her, and she shivered in the night air.  The song done, the final chords played out in her mind, she raised herself onto her knees, pressed a slobbery kiss to cold stone, and stumbled to her feet.

Her friends, her _family_ , were alive – for now – in Styria.  She had almost two years to kill before she could check up on them again.  Carmilla wiped roughly at the tears running down her cheeks.  She’d failed them twenty years ago, when she left them to pursue her vengeance, when she came home to Perry with her disease so progressed.  When she hadn’t taken care of herself for so long that LaFontaine had to get her blood.  She’d failed them, and they had died less than an hour after she returned to them.  She wouldn’t – couldn’t - ever fail them again.  They deserved better from her.  

She tried to finish drinking as she staggered from the graveyard, spilling brandy down her cheeks and into her clothes and hair.  When it was all gone she glared at the bottle in her hand as it slipped from her grasp to shatter on the street.  She’d be better for them.  Tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perry and LaF's song is [Be My Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8o8SZng55T0&ab_channel=hackstuff), a gold-record-selling hit recorded by Mario Lanza in 1951.


	30. September 22, 2014 - Season 1, Episode 2

Silas University was perhaps the last place in the world Carmilla ever wanted to be.  Her mother's sacrifice ritual was only keeping her from her work.  The project she'd spent the last eighteen years on – tracking every lead on anyone who could tell her anything about how reincarnation happened, how it worked.  Most of what she found was useless, fairy tales and mystics trying to make a buck off a fool who didn't know any better.  Carmilla was no fool.  Moreover, she knew that it was real and worked, of course.  A bit too well, in her opinion.  Unless something fundamentally changed she was doomed to outlive her lover.  But twenty years of life wasn't enough for the poor human girl whose biggest fault was a predilection for falling in love with her.  So whatever it took, she was going to change things.  She would find a way to save this one girl the next time she found her.  Even if it killed her.  

Fortunately she was a college student yet again so what time she wasn't using to undermine her mother's plans she could spend studying with no one the wiser that she wasn't working on her homework.

The duffel bag she carried over her shoulder was laden with more than even her usual of big, old books but she only jerked it higher onto her shoulder and kicked open the door she'd been informed was her new dorm room.

“Hey.”  She nodded and dropped her bag.  Both beds were already made up and she took a guess, moving toward the farther one.

She nearly fell over when the girl at the desk spun on her desk chair to glare at her.   _ No. _  Not here.  Not now.  It couldn't be.

“Um, excuse me, but who the hell are you?”

Carmilla couldn't help smirking at her wall, even as she reeled inside.  That was her girl, alright.  “Carmilla.  I'm your new roommate, sweetheart.”

“My what?”

Turning to take in the room, she bit her lip to hold back a smile.  Gods, was she cute when she was flustered.  “Your new roommate.”

“I have a roommate.”  That thing she did, gesturing with her hands when she was worked up, it made Carmilla want to cross the room, drop into her lap, and kiss the hell out of her.

Instead she bent over to check the fridge, give her hands something to do that wasn't grossly overstepping social boundaries with someone you'd just met.  “You do catch on fast,” she teased, oddly delighted even as her stomach rolled with anxiety.  They'd always had chemistry, even when her partner had no clue who she was yet.

“No, I mean, I have a preexisting roommate.  A-a prior – Her name is Betty.”  The girl, maybe eighteen or nineteen, rocked her chair, unable to be still, ever.

Carmilla stood up, popping the tab of the soda she'd pilfered and facing her roommate.  “Oh yeah?  Where's she?”

“She's… missing right now,” she admitted slowly.

Carmilla took a sip of her drink, wishing absently that it was less sugar water and more alcoholic.  She could really use a drink right now.  “I see.  So you can't produce this Betty but you'd still like me to leave?”  Leaving her can on the fridge, she moved to riffle through the bags and belongings on the bed she'd staked a claim on.

“I wouldn't put it like that, exactly.”  She could feel the disapproving stare on her back without having to see it.  Lill had always been so touchy about her doing anything worthy of disapproval.  She knew exactly the reaction she'd get when she pocketed the wad of cash she found in the ludicrously big purse.  “What are you doing?”

Sorting through the clothes strewn across the mattress, Carmilla glanced at her simply because she could.  “Well, I may not have a missing roommate, but what I do have is a letter from the Dean of Students that says I live here now.”  Rejecting the jacket, she flung it toward the end of the bed.

“Stop that!”  Her roommate was on her feet, gesturing impotently.  It was utterly adorable.  “Those are not yours!

“Well, they're in my half of the room, cutie.  And possession is nine-tenths.”  Just to see her squirm she held the pink t-shirt in her hands up to her chest.

The girl snatched it from her, clenching her teeth.  “This isn't your room.”

“Tell you what.  You cough up Betty and I'll hit the road.”  There was a beat.  “But until then -”  She snatched the shirt back and tossed it onto her bed again.

“Oh, this is  _ not _ happening!”  She was pointing fingers.  Carmilla wanted to lace her own though the waving ones and pull her into a blistering kiss.  To stop herself she turned and slid onto the bed, moving back to put herself against the headboard.  She stretched out, making a point of closing her eyes.  “You are not my new roommate.  I'm going to find Betty and you're going to be out of here so fast there's going to be scorch marks on those leather pants of yours.”

Carmilla could watch without hiding her smirk when the tiny ball of rage she loved sat down at her computer, clicking keys in a fury.

Her wrath burned itself out before ten, the diminutive girl curling up under her colorful quilt.  The bright yellow pillowcase was something Laurel would have loved.  She'd fallen asleep with her lamp on and Carmilla left it on.  Easier to poke around.  The dorms at Silas hadn't changed that much in the last fifty years but she was mostly curious about who she was sharing living space with.

Laura Hollis, as the open Twitter account on her computer informed her was her new roommate's name, had made herself comfortable in her half of the room.  There was a low bookcase squeezed between the end of her bed and the bathroom door.  Her book bag was strewn in front of it, open and tempting.

She wasn't going to steal anything.  She wanted to sit on the floor and read it all.  Figure out exactly who she was dealing with now.  There was a half-eaten carton of cookies on top of the shelf and Carmilla smiled, leaning over to peruse titles.  It seemed that never changed.

The books were all for her classes except for Harry Potter and a few Wonder Woman comics.  There was a camera on the shelf that yielded pictures only as old as three years.  There was a woman in the very oldest, clearly Laura's mother, but as the photos grew more recent she disappeared from the time line and the two remaining subjects fell under a shadowed pallor.

Carmilla looked up from her low vantage point to watch Laura sleep.  She seemed peaceful.  Laurel's mother had died when she was thirteen.  Ell's when she was born.  Lorelei had been eight when her mother passed.  She hadn't known Layla long enough to learn it from her directly but her mother had also been lost at the age of three, a fact Carmilla had learned from a police file after Layla's own death.  As much as the two of them finding each other, the death of her mother appeared to be even more integral in the formation of who she was deep down.

Knowing exactly how much Laurel had still ached from her loss, Carmilla wanted nothing more than to climb onto the bed behind her and hold her.  This girl wasn't her best friend, wasn't Laurel.  It wasn't her place.  Her new roommate didn't even seem to like her, not that she would encourage that if she could.  No, if Laura was to make it out of this, and Carmilla was determined that she would, the more distance she needed to keep between them.

She settled for straightening the quilt over Laura's shoulders, unable not to comfort her at all.  The soft, sleepy sigh was all the response she needed.  This girl should never feel pain again.  If there was anything she could do to prevent it, she would.  Whatever it took.

Returning to her own bed, Carmilla made herself comfortable with a large, heavy book in her lap.  She had work to do.

 


	31. October 05, 2014 - Season 1, Episode 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As we go into canon we're going to be borrowing scenes and dialogue that will be familiar, but we're putting our own twist on things. Hope you like it!

 

The note had come down during her astrophysics lecture but Carmilla almost didn't mind the summons to the Dean of Students' office.  Her professor was entirely wrong in their presentation of the conclusions they'd drawn from the theory they were discussing.  Since it was  _ her _ theory, published only last year, she was taking it rather personally.  She could use the opportunity to mention the shoddy teaching to her mother after whatever her elder wanted to yell at her about.

Being nearly a thousand, Lilita Morgan liked to keep things more or less old fashioned.  So the laptop on her desk gave Carmilla a pause.  Her roommate's voice from the computer made her stop entirely, one foot just inside the office.

“I thought I brought you here for a specific purpose.”  Mother's voice was pointed and cold.

“Which is to bring you idiots to feed to a hungry light,” answered Carmilla sarcastically, resuming her entrance into the room.  She crossed to lean over the desk behind her mother, watching Laura's web show.  The one she'd apparently made  _ after  _ the Town Hall meeting.  “It's called the internet.”

One hand moved across the desk with lightning speed, sharp nails digging into her wrist like the talons of a bird.  “You know how much I loathe that attitude of yours, my girl.  It's classless.”  Her lips pursed, clicking the spacebar to pause the video on her screen.  “I expect you to deal with this.”  Her pointed gaze was reproachful, disappointed.  “Of course, I expected you to have already dealt with it.”  She resumed the show but muted the laptop and they watched the girl on the screen gesture even more spastically without sound.  “You're drifting, my love,” mused Maman almost thoughtfully, leaning back in her leather desk chair.  “Perhaps after we're done here you and I should take a trip.”

“I'm meeting Mattie in Saigon,” blurted Carmilla without thinking.  It was a lie, subterfuge to keep her out from under her mother's thumb.  Mattie would back any story Carmilla could think of though.

Lilita tutted, disapproving but not denying her.  Yet.  “You know I don't like you girls running around making spectacles of yourselves.”  It was part of why Mattie enjoyed doing just that.

“Have I ever missed one of your miserable rituals?” Carmilla countered, more of an edge in her tone than was perhaps wise.  She had more important things in mind than preserving the ruse of cooperation between herself and her mother.  One way or another, she had a feeling one of them wasn't going to walk away from this cycle at Silas.  Not with Laura squarely in between them.

Instead of addressing the tone, the Dean only hummed, templing her fingers in front of her mouth and rocking her chair slowly.  “Now that she's made her decision to continue her little project, I expect this girl and her little  _ investigation _ ,” the derision nearly dripped from the word as it left her lips, “to be handled.  Privately.  And soon.”  She gestured at the laptop with one hand.  “I don't want to see another one of these videos again.  Are we understood?”

Carmilla straightened, crossing her arms and cocking a hip.  “Yeah, I hear you.”  She'd have to find a subtle way to approach LaFontaine about beefing up the security on Laura's computer.  It was more technical and less biological, but she knew they could do it.  “Was there anything else you wanted or can I get back to class?”

“As if you couldn't teach any class on the curriculum?” asked Maman, suddenly amused.

Carmilla shrugged her bag up higher on her shoulder.  “Yeah, speaking of that – the astrophysics professor the board hired doesn't have a clue what they're talking about.”

“I'll be sure to bring that up at our next meeting, love.”

Taking it for the dismissal it was, Carmilla nodded, leaving the office behind her.  Her back straightened as soon as she was clear of the building.  Being out of that place made it feel as if physical weight was off her shoulders.  The night air was crisp and cool, the sky above spread with stars.  It was such a pity that she hated it here because it was particularly beautiful this time of year.

Tucking her hands in her pockets, she took her time walking back to the dorm.  Laura had become friends with the tall ginger, Danny, and she wasn't anywhere close to in the mood to deal with that.  Since she was one of the few beings on campus who could walk openly at night, she walked slowly.  Even being who and what she was wouldn't deter the Alchemy Club, short of eating them, however, and she had to return to the dormitory when she heard the crowd of them crashing through the woods toward the Lustiq theater building.

LaFontaine and Perry were in the former's room having a discussion with the door open at the top of the stairs on the third floor.  They both looked up when Carmilla stopped in the doorway.  She couldn't help herself though.  She'd missed them.  Glimpses into their lives before Silas weren't the same as having the freedom to engage them here, to build friendships with people she'd once shared everything with.  They weren't her friends here, not yet.  In a twist of fate, they seemed to be helping Laura.  Which was nice, of course, that they were all getting along.  Less nice that all their sneaking around would almost inevitably point them at her and put the Dean squarely on their trail.

“Can we help you with something?” Perry asked, voice high and cheerful.  She even stood up and laced her fingers in front of herself.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I heard there was a problem with the security on the internet in the building.”  She shrugged, watching LaFontaine's eyes light up.  “I know the IT office is closed-”

“We're all over it,” LaFontaine promised eagerly even as Perry started to protest.

It made Carmilla smile.  She nodded.  “Thank you.”

At the end of the hall, her own door was open already, Laura having a discussion with someone.  Excellent.  Maybe Danny would call it an early night and leave before she felt overwhelmed by the urge to bite her.  Carmilla wandered in with her head down.

The voice who answered Laura wasn't Danny though, but lower.  Carmilla's head came up swiftly.

There was a plaid wearing neanderthal standing beside Laura's bed with his hands in a duffel bag.  Laura herself was only just visible in her desk chair behind him.  Carmilla's gaze swung left when she saw movement in the corner of her eye, spotting her brother by the closet.  He'd been scruffy the last time she'd seen him but was clean shaven now, short-haired, the perfect frat guy.  She moved more quickly, putting herself between Will and Laura.

“What the frilly hell is this?”  She kept her eyes on Laura, her arms stiff at her sides.

“Whoa.  We're your dude-scorts, sexy lady,” said the one she didn't know.

Will chimed in, “We're here to keep you safe from things that go bump in the night.”  His hands were on his hips and a knowing smirk on his lips.  

Head safely turned from Laura, Carmilla sneered at him, doing nothing to hide her loathing for him.  “Get the hell out of here before I feed you each other's spleens,” she ordered through gritted teeth.  The words were directed at the big one but Will was stalking around the fridge.

“Whoa, angry hottie.”  He turned to look at Laura.  “Angry... sexy lady,” he corrected himself.

Gesturing at him, Carmilla took a step forward.  “Why did you let these lackwits in?” she demanded.

“Let them?  What part of this looks like  _ let _ ?” countered Laura, exasperated.

“Isn't this exactly what you wanted when you plastered your little plea for help all over the internet?”

“No!  And you haven't even seen my videos!”

Adopting a higher pitch, Carmilla whinged.  “Oh no!  Betty's missing!  Oh no, Carmilla is mean!”  It was mocking but she couldn't help it, a bit exasperated herself.  Will couldn't know she cared for this girl.  No matter what.  “Am I close?” she asked brusquely.

Laura nodded.  “Spot on.  Except the girl playing you is kind of a raging... bad person.”  Even as mad as she was, she couldn't bring herself to swear.  In other circumstances and with less of an audience it would be cute.

“Okay,” said the tall guy, trying to stop the argument before it escalated.  “Laura and Carm-sexy...  Babes shouldn't fight.”  He paused, trying a smile.  “You know, unless there's a kiddie pool full of cream corn somewhere.”

His voice had gotten breathy and Carmilla was not so suddenly entirely done with this whole exchange.  Cocking her right arm up, she punctuated her next words with a hard punch to the frat boy's middle.  “Maybe,” he was bent over and wheezing, “I just don't appreciate getting hauled in front of the Dean because of your ridiculous,” her arm chopped down and he was on the ground, “project.”

Gesturing wildly, Laura was out of her seat.  “Oh, okay, truce, truce,” she said quickly, stumbling over her words a bit.  “A moratorium on the Betty investigation just long enough to get these... fine, upstanding young gentleman stalkers out of our hair,” she proposed as flannel man pushed himself to his knees.  “Okay?”

Rubbing at a tension headache she could feel forming between her eyes, Carmilla exhaled.  “Alright, deal.”

“Deal,” Laura agreed, clearly relieved.

The boy shrunk back onto the edge of the bed when Carmilla turned to face him.  “My poor, poor boy.”  She stepped forward to pat his shoulder.  “I'm sorry I have such a terrible temper.  Could you possibly forgive me?”  She tried to smile but it felt more like a grimace, like she was scarcely keeping hold of a desire to flash fangs at him.  

He squirmed, big arms pulling himself backwards ever so slightly as he tried to get away from her.  “It's ain't no thing,” he stammered, wiggling and giggling.  “That tickles.”  

Her fingers walked across rounded muscle, playing with the fabric of his shirt.  “Hmm, look at these.”  Carmilla ran her hand down his arm to his elbow.  It  _ was _ firm, if a girl was into that sort of thing.  “Such arms, such shoulders.  The primitive by the way of the neoclassical.”  If Laura could bring Danny around, the universe rubbing her nose in it, she had no problem turning the tables a bit.  Give her girl a little something to squirm over. Laura had no way of knowing that there was never anyone else for Carmilla.

“Yeah, well, I work out.”  His breathing was shaky.

“I could just eat you alive.”  With Laura continually taking her soymilk container out of the fridge she actually could use a nip, but would restrain herself.  She did lean in toward his neck, something primal and inhuman getting a thrill from the way he trembled and squeaked.  On the other hand, restraint had always been one of her weaknesses.  She was hungry and he was there.  She wanted him not to be there.  The solution was literally right there in front of her face.

She let herself savor dragging her teeth over his skin before she bit down.  If you could call it that.  She barely even broke the skin but he jumped and stammered, jerking away and covering his neck with his hand.

“Ah, whoa, biting, biting, biting!”  He stood up quickly, Will moving to steady him.  Carmilla made herself comfortable on Laura's bed, legs spread.

“What the hell is wrong with you, psycho?” Will spoke up, the siblings staring at each other.  They had their orders, knew their roles.  If he couldn't figure out that his were maybe not the same as hers then he was more the fool for it.

“Oh, what?  Aren't you going to stay and help protect us poor, vulnerable girls?” asked Carmilla mockingly as her snack leaned forward and hurriedly began to gather his duffel with shaky hands.

“You bit me!”  Looking between Will and Carmilla, he tried again, “Dude, she bit me!  That is so not cool!”  Leaving Will to trail him out, he finally left.  Will only glared but he pulled the door closed behind him as he followed.

“What?  It was barely a nip,” Carmilla was protesting before the door was even latched, before Laura had even started arguing with her methods.  She shifted around to lean on Laura's pillows.  They smelled like her.  “You said you wanted them gone,” she pointed out fairly.

“Gone, not hemorrhaging,” Laura heatedly clarified.

“I guess that's it for the truce, then.”  It was snotty but she didn't care.

“Okay, I'm sorry everyone got dragged in front of the Dean, and I’m sorry for the whole Town Hall fiasco, but I’m not sorry for posting the videos, and I’m not going to stop.”  Her computer was chiming and she turned to look at it.

“It's only a matter of time before you get caught,” Carmilla tried to reason with her.  She'd follow Mother's orders if it meant keeping Laura off the Dean's radar and safe.  “Are you really willing to risk that for a silly -”  More chimes.  “- series that has, what, three viewers?”  More chimes, and more.  Too many to ignore.

Laura moved to look at the monitor.  “What is that -?”  She took her seat, peering at the data on the screen.  “Yeah, I don't think the lack of viewers is going to be the problem.”  Behind her, Carmilla sat up on her elbows against the pillows as the chiming continued.

Good thing she had never thought this was going to be easy.  Good thing she wasn't expecting to walk away from Silas this time because Laura wasn't going to make it simple for Carmilla to keep her alive.


	32. October 09, 2014 - Season 1, Episode 10-11

**** It was making her insane, living with the girl she loved and knowing that the girl hated her.  She could admit she probably shouldn't have brought other girls back to the room and used Laura's bed.  She could even acknowledge that she hadn't done much of anything to make herself easier to live with.  She was messy and inconsiderate, coming in at all hours and doing nothing to clean up after herself.  It was the only way she could think of to save Laura's life.  If the Dean found the slightest trace of any sort of affection between them then Laura was dead.

Laura's disdain for her was something Carmilla needed.

She wanted everything but.  So she thought nothing of it when she rolled out of bed and went to the fridge, even as she traded snarky barbs with Laura, and poured a mug of cocoa.  She'd never cared for the stuff, too sweet, but Laura did, in every incarnation.

“Hmm, you do look like crap.”  Laura gave her nothing but slow chewing, a testament to her own distraction.  “Well, I've got a talk I want to catch on Goethe so I’ll be back before Thursday.”  Considering the mug in her hand, Carmilla still didn't realize the imminent gesture she was holding.  She leaned around Laura to put it down on her desk.  “Try not to get all sweaty and delirious before I get back,” she said on her way out the door.  Lorelei would have cracked a joke about saving the sweaty and delirious for after she got back, her voice in Carmilla's head filling in the absence of a response.  

Laura only said, “Um, thanks.”

She left the door open behind her and turned.  She was nearly to the stairs before recognition of what she'd done sank in and she promptly kicked herself for allowing fondness and habit to let her show weakness.  It wouldn't do for Laura to get any sort of fuzzy feelings for her.

Distracted by her own misstep, it took Carmilla until she reached the ground floor before she noticed the buzzing, crackling tension that seemed to surround the very building.  People were talking and she paused to listen, unable to shake the sudden need to do so.

“She's here, dude.”

“No way, bro.”

“Taylor saw her herself.  I swear.”

“Dude, what could someone do that's so bad that the  _ Dean _ comes down to kick you out herself!?”

Carmilla stopped moving in an instant.  Laura.  There was only one reason for her mother to come to the dorm and Carmilla had just left her on her own to be eviscerated.  She was back up the stairs before the two meathead frat boys had spoken their next 'dude.'

Her arrival wasn't stealthy but it saved her from having to announce herself when she nearly ran into her mother's back.  “Ah, there you are, Miss Karnstein.”  She turned from the dorm room and Carmilla could see LaFontaine and Perry, Laura's expression of what she might optimistically label anxiety.  “Could we speak in private?”

The door clicked closed with a finality that made her remember the coffin, sealing her off from the only world she knew and leaving her trapped in a life of darkness and blood.

“I was unaware that we had misunderstood one another,” started the Dean.  “When I give you a direction I expect it to be carried out.  I told you to take care of her, but what do I see -?”

“You put me in here to get her ready for the sacrifice,” Carmilla cut in to remind her.  “Do you want me to have to waste another two weeks just for a quick meal?”

“I expect you to do what I say.  I didn't go out of my way to get you accepted here to have you behaving like this.”

“Why  _ did _ you bother getting me accepted here?” Carmilla shot back.  She'd been at Silas as a student before but also as a benefactor, as a staff member, a visiting professor's assistant the one time she'd convinced Mattie to visit during one of the cycles.  Her previous stints as a university first year had been when there was less accountability, making it easier for her status as a student to slip through the cracks.  Not this time.  This time her mother had greeted her in her home with a fresh student identification and housing assignment.

The Dean tutted, waving her question away.  “The reasons I do anything that I do are not for you to understand.  Just to obey.”  Carmilla's face went stony and frozen.  She didn't react when her mother's hand patted her cheek.  “I do everything for you, my dear,” Maman said, lowering her voice and leaning in.  “Things you can't even imagine.  Things you wouldn't understand, but things that are necessary to make you better.”

Stiff beneath her parent's attempt at an embrace, a shrieking siren went off in Carmilla's mind.  Anything her mother had arguably done for her had been fairly blatant – such as murdering her girlfriend's father and leaving him dismembered on the floor, destroying her girlfriend so completely that she'd never found a single trace of her.  If her mother had taken action to 'improve' her, she'd be sure to let her daughter know exactly how much trouble she'd gone to.  

She'd be sure to make it hurt.

“Now, if we're understanding each other -”  Carmilla didn't speak, unsure that she could.  The Dean snapped her fingers sharply.  “If you don't take care of this situation, I will,” she promised.  Carmilla knew without any further hint that they were both thinking about the way Ell had been taken care of.

Her unbeating heart sank.  Laura would not stop.  She knew that already.  Neither would her mother be dissuaded.

“I don't want to be coming back down here again, Carmilla.”

“Yeah, I got it,” Carmilla snapped unwisely, squaring her shoulders but not moving from in front of the doorway until her mother had departed.  At least she didn't waste time leaving, the hall feeling as if the building itself was taking a breath of relief.  

Carmilla wasn't relieved.  She wanted to put her fist through the wall.  Let her beast cat roar.  Her body relaxed only to tremble.  Her grip on the doorknob could have broken it.

Inside the dorm everyone was on their feet, LaFontaine and Perry nearly snapping to attention to bid farewell to the already departed Dean.  It did nothing to improve Carmilla's bleak mood.  No one spoke as she crossed to her bed, the only sound the creak of the door.  Carmilla could feel everyone's eyes on her as she sat down but she didn't look up to meet any of them.

“Well,” Perry broke the tense silence.  “As much fun as we've all been having, I'm sure LaFontaine and I have a student crisis to attend to somewhere.”

“Oh, yeah, totally,” they agreed.  “Uh, but before we go I have some questions for you about the -”

“You can ask her later,” said Perry over them, already pulling them by the arm toward the door.  “Now, Susan,” she said when LaFontaine would have protested.  

Behind the hand she held over her face Carmilla winced.  That was certainly different.  Previously Perry had always been very conscientious regarding LaFontaine’s name and pronouns.  Of course, she didn't know these reincarnations of her friends well enough to have learned any of their history.  They were Laura's friends here, not hers, and the reminder stung.

The door closed behind them and Carmilla found a book in her bed and threw it hard at the wall, needing an outlet for her frustration and futility.  She'd prefer to let her panther out but... The memories had been hazy and shifting, the physical evidence only slightly less so the morning after Layla's murder.  She'd been killed by a vampire, not a panther, that had been clear enough, but Carmilla had never been able to prove to herself that it hadn't been her own bite that had ended the girl's life.

Regardless, the memories of Layla and Dinah dead on the sidewalk in front of  _ Lorelei's _ were still vivid enough that she could reconsider letting the rage fueled beast in her chest loose on the Silas campus.  The last thing she needed was Laura adding dismembered cat victims to her investigation.

Sighing, Carmilla kept her head down, wishing bitterly that there was a more satisfying way to express her impotent wrath.

“Did you want to talk about it?” asked Laura sarcastically.

“No.”

Laura softened, trying to be compassionate.  “Well, a personal chewing out by the Dean of Students, that is impressively badass,” she offered.

Peeking at her, Carmilla didn't buy it.  “But I so had it coming, didn't I?”

“Look, I didn't mean it like that.”

Carmilla's head shook.  “Please.  You think the Dean is raking me out over the coals because I don't play along with your passive aggressive chore wheel?”

“No!  But... well, why would she be?”

Eyes back on her lap, Carmilla sighed.  “I said some things she didn't like.”

Confused, Laura asked, “When?  In your seminar?”

Frustration mounted, being questioned by both sides, and Carmilla stood up from her bed.  The room wasn't nearly large enough to pace, so she only retrieved a tissue from atop the fridge.  “This age doesn't understand obligation!  It's like an undersea anchor, impossible to escape.”  With nowhere else to go she returned to her bed, wiping her nose furiously.

“Ah, worried you're not living up to expectations, huh?”  Laura rocked from side to side in her chair.  She smiled in commiseration when Carmilla peeked up at her again.  Both hands gestured at herself.  “Only child of a massively overprotective dad, here.”  Pleased with herself, her nose wrinkled.  “And I didn't even have to get all Coleridge-y about it.”  Carmilla caught herself starting to smile and buried it in her crumpled tissue.  Noticing, Laura leaned over to retrieve the wastebasket and held it up for her, the smile on her face as much of a gesture of peace.  Carmilla felt sheepish and embarrassed as she dropped the refuse into the receptacle but she offered the shadow of a smile in return.

Anything more she might want to say in the fragile truce between them, any words, warnings, pleas, or declarations that she had imprisoned behind her teeth were interrupted by the door opening to admit Danny Lawrence, still as tall and ginger as she'd ever been.

“Hey... guys,” Danny adjusted quickly when she spotted Carmilla on her bed.  She spared a glance for Carmilla, who only brushed her hair back from her face and didn't look back.  Her attention was only for Laura.  “I return from the Alchemy Department victorious,” she declared happily. 

Determined to ignore them, Carmilla dug in her bag to find her bracelet.  She wouldn't let herself look at the inscription right now but she brushed her thumb across the smooth leather before snapping it onto her wrist.

“Wait, they are the ones behind it – taking the girls?” Laura asked, turning on her chair to face her friend.

“Oh, no!  They're the ones using dander collected at parties to seed an immense, interconnected fungus throughout campus?” she clarified, sounding confused by her own explanation.

“I'm sorry, what now?”

Carmilla found another bracelet on her headboard and pulled it into place.

“Apparently it's a communication experiment.  Or maybe a very complicated risotto recipe?”  She flailed her hands impatiently.  “I don't know.  That's not the victory part.”  She fished a USB drive from her pocket and leaned forward to present it to Laura.  “These creepy little proto-scientists have been photo-tracking every party on campus for their documentation.”

Laura plugged the drive into her computer and watched the archive load.  “We have pictures of every party where the girl has disappeared?”

“Yep,” confirmed Danny with a slow nod.

“And we can track all the girls through all of them!  Danny!  You're brilliant!”

Finished with her bracelets, that was Carmilla's cue to leave before her homicidal impulses grew too strong.  She swung her legs over the side of her bed and stood up.

“I like the sound of that,” Danny said, smiling and nodding again.

Carmilla cleared her throat where she wanted to growl.  “Sorry, I just forgot that I have to be anywhere but here.”

“Oh, that's too bad, no, come back!” Danny called after her as she stalked through the door.

Carmilla could still see her lying in her own blood with her throat ripped wide and it tempered her desire to fire back.  Instead, she only kept moving.  

The memories were in the forefront of her mind, the blood nearly black under the rising sunlight opaqued behind the buildings of London.  The smell had filled the street that morning when Carmilla had arrived, gagging her with its thickness.

It was the only scent she could pick up, obliterating all other traces in its sheer overwhelming volume.  Two girls could supply a truly startling amount of blood if the method of removal was determined to drain every single drop.  Which whoever had done this had taken pleasure in doing.

Carmilla knew at first glance that it hadn't been her avatar's doing.  This was a vampire slaying, no doubt.  The thing she had doubts about was  _ which  _ vampire had done it – herself, or someone else.

Crossing the quad, Carmilla tried unsuccessfully to push the memories away.  Something was niggling in the back of her mind, struggling to reach clarity.  She'd investigated the murders twenty years ago – suspects and motives and alibis.  For nothing.  Will had been her first thought but she'd placed him firmly in Istanbul in the summer of 1993.  She'd found exactly no one else with motive to hurt Layla.  Except herself.

No vampire in her club would have poached a kill in such a public way.  It simply wasn't done.  Not without some sort of ancient blood feud involved.  Being her mother's daughter had one single perk – no one, and no one, would make a move against her unless she made one first.  Which she hadn't.

The thought dug into her mind.  Her mother.  No one was stupid enough to drop a body in her club.  Not unless her mother was involved.

The Dean's voice in her head sent a lance of ice through her guts, Carmilla standing stark still on the shadowed sidewalk.   _ I do everything for you, my dear.  Things you can't even imagine.  Things you wouldn't understand, but things that are necessary to make you better. _

It was only a suspicion, unfounded.  Scarcely more than a conspiracy theory.  She couldn't shake it though.  “She killed them.”  It was spoken at hardly a whisper.  It rang like truth through her chest.  Her mother had had Layla killed as surely as she'd killed Ell.  But why?  For what purpose?  To make her better?  How?  Why?  More questions she couldn't answer.  Carmilla felt cold sweat break out on the back of her neck.  A night breeze and the fluttering of wings in the shadows sent a shiver down her spine.


	33. October 21, 2014 - Season 1, Episode 19

Sentiment was going to get her killed.  If her mother wasn't the one to do it then it would be Laura and her friends.  Carmilla had let herself get busy, get distracted, and most tragically, had let herself forget that as much as she loved them these weren't  _ her  _ people.  She'd let herself forget and they'd abused her nostalgia and tied her to a chair.  She  _ had _ gotten to break Will's arm in the struggle, and punch Danny in her smug face, but LaFontaine had hit a table with their face in the fight and she had still ended the night roped to a chair.

The whole thing was humiliating.

She had been distracted, admittedly, hadn't kept up to date with Laura's plans.  Of course, she'd spotted LaFontaine trailing her for a week before she'd been blindsided.  They didn't know her here, but she still knew them  - the way they moved, the logistical leaps they made trying to hide themselves.  It was only her own distraction that had kept her from putting the pieces together.

Her mother had killed Layla, a girl she'd barely known for a week.  Carmilla needed to know why.  The Dean had her cycles of sacrifices at Silas.  Her daughter was unaware that her own cycle of love and loss was something her mother was even aware of.  The relationship, if it could be called that, with Layla had barely begun.  Nothing like she'd had with Lorelei, Laurel, or Lill.  Hell, they'd scarcely spoken to each other.  Maman's motivation to murder her  _ then  _ was what Carmilla couldn't understand.

The past had kept her from seeing the present, a mistake that had landed her squarely in her current predicament.  Tied to a chair for days and slowly starving, unable to protect the people she loved.  The people who had no idea how much she would do for them.

Sarah Jane and Natalie had been Will's marks, infected nearly at the same time.  She knew they were close to being taken when they'd started hanging all over anyone with a pulse.  It was more evidence for their case against her and she knew it, even without watching the videos to see exactly where they were with their investigation.

As always, Laura was her weakness.  The slightest olive branch from the girl had broken her.  A simple invitation to a party and she'd forgotten that the best way to keep her safe was to keep Laura at a distance.  Carmilla was tired, of the distrust, the contention.  She'd gotten one glimmer of the life she remembered and missed and her willpower had crumbled like fine sand beneath the tide.

Hunger was going to drive her mad eventually.  She'd reached that point before on more than one occasion in her life.  Perry had been the one to pull her back the last time.  Ironically one of her captors this time, though less willing than some others.  Unfortunately LaFontaine presently seemed pretty keen on keeping her bound to the chair.

“I don't see how one little vial -” they said, leaning over Carmilla's bowed head.  She was faking sleep while LaFontaine and Perry kept watch over her while Laura was in her Lit class.  After nine days of starvation what she really wanted was some peace, even more than blood.  Someone was always in the room with her and it was nearly as crazy-making as the hunger.

Pretending to be asleep was the only way to get their idiotic questions to cease.  She was rarely tempted to break the ruse and smile, thank mercy for the dubious favor.

“No,” Perry stated flatly, not looking up from her lecture notes.  “Do not touch her.”  She paused, considering and clucking her tongue.  “Let her sleep.”

Carmilla peeked up at that, her breathing slow and steady.  There  _ was _ some remnant of her friend in there, even if they were relative strangers at this point in time.  It made something twist and pang high in her chest, nothing to do with the growling hunger lower down in her stomach.  They both made her feel weak.

LaFontaine's sigh of obedience was painfully familiar too and Carmilla could hear them climb onto the bed to sit next to Perry.  “You know, you're the one who wanted to come here.”

Perry scoffed.  “As if you didn't see the labs on the student tour and start drooling,” she countered.  “You can't just perform tests on her though, no matter what you think she is.”

“I wouldn't hurt her.  Maybe it would sting a bit.”

“And that's your idea of a good plan?” asked Perry.  “Stinging a vampire in her sleep?”

LaFontaine hesitated.  “Oh, yeah, no, probably not a good plan.”  Perry's agreement was a hum.

It was all so familiar at the same time it was utterly alien.  The way they related to each other was the same in this lifetime as it had been in the last.  Fond affection laced even their disagreements.  The way Perry looked at them was the same, no matter that neither one were acknowledging the painfully obvious feelings between them.  At least LaFontaine wasn't acknowledging.  Simple observation had made Carmilla quite sure that Perry knew precisely how she felt for them.

The pronoun thing was new.  Perry had barely missed a step in their last life but seemed more hesitant this time.  And LaFontaine wasn’t correcting her, or Laura, or anyone.  Of course, Carmilla wasn't their friend here, so what did she know.  It ached in a way utterly different from the pull between her bound shoulders.

Rapping knuckles on the door got them both up off the bed, LaFontaine to block the view of Carmilla in the chair while Perry did the talking.  “No, sorry, she's not here at the moment.”

“But I need to  _ see _ her,” whined the interloper, one of Carmilla’s one-night ‘study buddies’ from several weeks earlier.

“She's still not here,” Perry said, her tone clipped.

“Sorry,” added LaFontaine with a shrug.  The girl left with a desolate whine and they laughed.  “Do you really think she's  _ that  _ good?  Or maybe she's entrancing them or brainwashing somehow -”

Carmilla snorted trying to hold back a sudden laugh but went even more still, limp in her chair and let them assume she'd snored in her sleep.

The smile was audible in Perry's voice when she answered, “If she's a vampire like you think then she wouldn't need to breathe, would she?”  LaFontaine's choked gasp was stifled by Perry hushing them.  “She's tied to a chair.  The least we can do is let her sleep.”

“Sorry,” whispered LaFontaine.  With her eyes closed Carmilla could imagine that the apology was actually for her.  Silence fell as hunger mounted.

The door opened again without a knock the second time to admit Laura but Carmilla kept her head down beyond a quick peek to make sure she was alone.  She was in no state to deal with the ginger giant right now.  Thirst for blood was beating a pulse through her body that made her limbs feel heavy.  Regardless of her intentions to save the idiots she loved, all of whom were in the room with her, the drive for their blood wouldn't be sated until there was iron between her teeth.  Her jaw clenched, fangs grinding.  The plastic legs of the chair creaked when her legs flexed against the ropes' hold on her ankles.

“Has she been asleep this whole time?” Laura asked, keeping her voice down.  “Isn't that bad?  I mean, she's kind of pale looking, right?”

“She's always pale,” LaFontaine reminded them all.

“Being tied up in her dorm room for a week can't be helping,” said Perry pointedly.

“She's not talking,” was Laura's explanation, shrugging her shoulders helplessly.  “Until we know -”  She sighed, shaking her head.  “Thank you both for keeping an eye on her.”

“Are you going to be alright alone?” asked LaFontaine even as Perry started packing books back into her bag.

It wasn't an act to loll her head to the side, Carmilla's mind going hazy as the need for blood overwhelmed her other senses.  It was screaming through her mind like a migraine, demanding action but leaving her weak.  Tied to the chair as she was, there was no recourse.

“She doesn't look like she's going anywhere,” Laura said, a note of doubt in her voice.  “I'll just try and talk to her when she wakes up.”

Briskly, Perry nodded, her arms folded.  “Do let us know if you need anything further.”  LaFontaine followed her out with a small wave, textbooks tucked beneath their arm.

Carmilla jerked her head up when the door closed behind them, the sound making her nearly feral cat leap inside her chest, anxious for escape.  The sound she produced made Laura jump as well.

“You weren't asleep at all, were you?” she accused, leaning in.

Carmilla snapped her teeth as she spoke.  “You're the wannabe investigative journalist, sweetheart.”

Pouting, Laura dropped her bag.  “It's not that hard.  If you didn't do it then tell me what you were doing!”

She was finding it hard to keep her eyes open, kept herself upright in her chair only through force of will.  She didn't speak.

Frustrated, Laura's foot stomped the ground.  Carmilla could practically  _ see  _ the gears turning inside her head.  The scent of the blood filled the air as soon as she opened a jar from the fridge, Carmilla's mouth watering instantly.  Her skin felt too tight, hot and cold at the same time, her body sweating and hollow, waiting to be filled to the brink.  She burned to fill herself with blood, drink until it completed her, let it spill over until everything was red.

The scope of her cloudy vision went crimson when Laura put the mug of blood on the desk.  Carmilla blinked hard to clear her sight while Laura set up her camera and spoke to her audience.  “Good morning, viewers, and welcome to day nine of operation stupid, obstinate vampire roommate won't talk.  Which is all she has to do to and we will totally give her this nice, yummy blood to drink.”

Waving the cup under her nose was too much, in Carmilla's opinion, her mouth opening futilely.  She was too weak to even lean forward and take it.  She could do it, possibly, but in her current state she'd likely strike for the closest source of warm, fresh blood.  Everything remained cloudy and far in her vision except for the pulse beating in Laura's wrist as she circled the cup before her face.  One snap of her jaws and she'd have it.  Closing her mouth without a swallow was all the restraint she had left.

It won her a groan of frustration from her roommate.  “I swear -!”  Whatever came next was interrupted by another knock on the door.  Leaving her camera running, Laura went to answer it.

She'd left the mug on the far side of the desk, far out of range.  The beat in her head was thunderous.  The light hurt her eyes.  It wasn't even worth the effort of fighting to keep her eyes open, her head up.  If she could just let go it wouldn't gnaw like this, clawing at her insides until she couldn't even pretend to be a person anymore.

Darkness fell as everything seized and shook.  Laura's voice sounded as though it was coming from a great distance, far away and then suddenly close and loud.  “Carmilla!  No, no, no-no-no!”

 


	34. October 26, 2014 - Season 1, Episode 22-23

Sleep wasn't easy to come by since Carmilla had made her decision not to throw Laura over her shoulder and drag LaFontaine and Perry out of Austria.  The smallest sound made Carmilla wake, tense until she recognized Laura's voice.  She was mumbling in her sleep, appeared to have another of the fitful dreams that were spreading more and more widely across the campus as the sacrifice grew closer.

Laura whined, turning over beneath her sheets.  “No, wait, don't change the record.  I want to hear it once more.”

Carmilla sat up, frowning in the dark of their dorm room.  It wasn't that odd of a thing to say – except that it was in perfect French.  Laura spoke French only haltingly and never in conversation.  

“Sing it for me, Carm.”

She froze, feeling cold suddenly.  Laura didn't know she sang.  Laura didn't speak French.  Yet it seemed familiar somehow.  It came to her with a shiver that started inside her chest and radiated outward to make her tremble.   _Lorelei_ had loved to listen to her sing.   _Lorelei_ had spoken French fluently.

“Laura!”

Jumping, Laura pushed herself up on one arm to peer around the dark room in a haze.  “What?  What's wrong?  Wha'happened?”

Carmilla felt the last vestiges of her own slumber burn away.  Kicking her legs over the side of her bed, she said, “You were talking in your sleep.”  Her voice sounded odd to her own ears.  She swallowed hard, licking her lips.

Laura only blinked, unsure how to respond.  They'd only just started to be able to share space more or less peacefully.    Carmilla had only been untied for a few hours.  “Oh, sorry.”

“Were you dreaming?” asked Carmilla, speaking slowly.  She felt hollow inside, separate.

Thinking, Laura frowned.  “You were there, I think.”  She smiled drowsily.  “That's funny, right?”  Carmilla looked rather choked but Laura only stretched.  “Is everything okay?”

The vampire nodded, not sure she could speak.  There was no way.  It was impossible, wasn't it?  It had certainly never happened before.  They never remembered her, or their past lives.  That was how it worked.  How it had always worked.

Laura watched her through the dark for another minute before she returned to her pillow.  “Good night, Carmilla.”

Waiting until she was sure her roommate was again unconscious, Carmilla crossed from her bed to the computer that had been tracking their movements for the last two months.  It was still on, though the camera was shut down.  There was an external hard drive housing all of Laura's project, each day's shooting carefully archived.  Pity she had no idea where to start looking.  Or what, exactly, she was looking for.

Even watching at one and a half speed it took Carmilla nearly two hours to find something.  She'd been in the room herself at the time but had thought nothing of Laura's use of German to answer Danny's flirting beyond gut twisting jealousy.  Now it seemed obvious.  Before leaving Canada for Austria Laura hadn't traveled.  She didn't speak German any more than she spoke French.

The next instance was more easily spotted, Laura asleep at her desk, cookies scattered on the surface.  She was alone in the room but her sleep was fitful.  It was early in the cycle, but not too early.  There had been one earlier dream but this was different.  She was still, not moving, but moaning and whimpering in her sleep.  Carmilla caught something that could have been her name but it was mumbled, incomplete.  Laura was still sleeping, a frown crossing her face.

“William, what are you doing here?”  She didn't sound sleepy or slurred now, but alert and on edge.

Watching the screen, Carmilla leaned back from the desk with her own expression dark.  Her brother was kept safely away from Laura and had been since that first day she'd walked into the dorm to discover who her new roommate was.  The visit last night was about her, not Laura.  She was sure Will hadn't met her roommate at the time this footage had been shot.

Tears slid across Laura's face without waking her.  “Why?  Why would you -?  They hadn't done anything to you.”  Her voice was choked with anguish.  “We don't want anything from your mother except to live in peace.”

Something dropped inside Carmilla's chest, settling low in her gut with a painful twist.  Unable to help herself, she turned in the chair to make sure that Laura was safely asleep.

On the screen she was crying out in her sleep, tears falling faster down her face.  “William – Will -“  She hiccuped and choked.  Her voice grew steady, stronger.  Resigned.  “She'll never forgive you for this.”

Carmilla's eyes closed and she was right back in that alleyway.  The blood, the death, the feeling of hope being smashed.  He'd suffered for decades for that night.  Not enough.  Never enough.  Not until he couldn't touch Laura.

Blinking, she realized there were tears sliding down her cheeks.  Both hands wiped them away, her breathing shaky.

Laura had seen Lill's murder in her sleep.  Experienced that death.  Thinking of it made Carmilla feel sick, like a fist was squeezing her insides.  There was no other explanation, nothing else that would explain what she'd been dreaming about.  None of this made any sense though.  People didn't remember their past lives.  Deja vu, of course, was the small stuff, the little things that didn't change about a person from lifetime to lifetime, coming through whatever barrier separated one life from the next.  That was harmless.  Not an obviously detailed dream about the violent murder of a past life.

What the hell was going on in this place?  Trying to piece it together into anything resembling a working theory was going to drive her crazy.  Sitting in the dark Carmilla suddenly missed LaFontaine, her friend LaFontaine, sharply.  They'd have loved this.

The dreams had always been part of the sacrifice ritual, along with the drive to party and celebrate.  It was one of the myriad reasons that Maman had chosen to build a school on the site of her cult's rite.  No one noticed a sleep-deprived teenager or someone drunk or high as out of place.

Carmilla had been a part of every sacrifice for the last two hundred years and she'd never seen anything like this.  She'd seen the girl she loved be taken from her and killed only to reincarnate and find her again, but nothing like this.

This was something else, something she had no idea how to deal with.  Laura wasn't just having dreams, she was dreaming about her past lives, was speaking languages she shouldn't know in this life.  It hadn't happened before but they were at Silas now, where nothing except pain could be taken for granted.  She'd learned that long ago.

Sneaking another look over her shoulder, Carmilla breathed deep.  The sight of Laura sleeping peacefully was a direct contrast to the image of her tear-streaked and panting on the computer.  It made the feeling of fingers tangled in her guts loosen and relax for just a moment.

She had to know what was happening here.  Information was the only way to keep Laura safe.  Unfortunately there was only one place that may contain the information she needed.  Her mother's vaunted library wasn't just dangerous for humans.  It could just as easily kill her too.

Not this night though.  Not if it meant Laura and Perry and LaFontaine didn't escape this place.  They may not know how much they meant to her but that didn't change what Carmilla would do for them.

Standing up, Carmilla couldn't move past Laura's sleeping form without the slightest bit of connection.  She moved slowly, two gentle fingers pushing tangled golden hair back from closed eyes.  Carmilla knew she shouldn't do anything more, shouldn't have even done that.  Laura sighed in her sleep, a smile quirking her lips.  Leaning in, Carmilla held her breath.  Her lips only brushed Laura's temple as light as a whisper, disturbing her not a bit.

Carmilla stepped back prudently a second later.  She'd only just touched the door knob when Laura sighed.  “Carmilla.”

She froze, scared to turn around but almost more scared not to know for sure if she'd been caught.  Her turn was noiseless but Laura was still asleep, still smiling.  Carmilla couldn't tell if she was relieved or disappointed.  Things had gotten better since she'd been freed from the chair, since their reluctant compromise.  She was sure Laura wouldn't appreciate her vampire roommate kissing her.  Things hadn't changed that much.

The night air was cold and it made her pull her jacket that much tighter around herself.  The leather was old, scuffed, but warm.  The raised collar gave her an imposing silhouette.  Marred only very slightly by the dark wool beanie on her head.  By the time she reached the library there was no one around to appreciate whatever vibe she was giving off anyway.

The campus library was a foreboding place in broad daylight but at night there was no one fool enough to go near it.  Unless they were a vampire on a mission.  She'd worked for centuries to undermine her mother's ritual without knowing anything about it.  Now was time to change that.

Carmilla approached the edifice with caution, her panther self growling and rumbling from her chest.  She was an alpha predator but this was the library's own hunting ground.  Proper respect and caution were just prudent.  Nothing happened as she mounted the steps but then, it wouldn't yet.  The library wanted to draw her in deeper before it snapped her up.  Or tried to.  Carmilla had no intention of spending her eternity in this hellhole.  She knew how the sacrifice got the whole campus worked up.  The library would be hungry for blood, same as every other monster at Silas.

Carmilla had done research before, had even published more than a few papers, but had a tighter focus now.  Unfortunately, with nowhere to start looking, the search was more or less like a needle in a haystack.  The books whispered from their shelves, words that were only _just_ indecipherable, volume rising and falling like a wave as she moved through the stacks.  Turning a blind corner into a dead end, she was forced to turn back on the third floor.  The books were practically screaming when she passed one rack and then went silent on the next.  Unsure, Carmilla stepped back to the serenade of screams to peruse the shelves.

The screams became humming, louder and then softer as her fingers dragged the book spines.  The titles were in a variety of languages and she translated as she walked along the shelf.  There was an almost buzzing when she stopped.   _Sumerian Rites and Deities._  She'd scarcely started to pull it down when the noise resumed, crashing and shrieking that came not from the books but from something rampaging directly through the stacks.

**_Run._ ** Something had spoken quite clearly but there was no time to find who or what it was.  She could only obey.

Pursuit came immediately, careening through, over, and under the shelves to get to her.  Instinct loosed her avatar, her panther self making leaps her vampire body couldn't manage to stay ahead of whatever was hunting her.  She caught a glimpse of skull and curled horns when she risked a look back on the stair's landing.  Muscled heavily, there was no skin, only shadows hiding the corded sinews from view.

Carmilla was fast on her feet in each of her forms.  The creature pursuing her was faster than either.  She leaped down onto the second floor without touching any of the stairs past the landing.  Her claws left furrows in the hardwood where she'd cornered.

The floor cracked beneath the beast as it landed where she'd just been.

There were stairs somewhere to get her back to the ground but Carmilla would be damned before she'd be able to find them.  The stacks were the straightest she'd maybe ever seen them though, leaving her a clear path directly to the banister overlooking the entrance.

For all she knew it was the library working to put her into even deeper shit.  Carmilla made the leap without looking back.  Off balance, her left front paw hit first and sent her sprawling.  From her side she could see the nightmare on the edge above her, watching through eyes that were more like dark voids in a skull than eyes in a face.

Carmilla gathered her feet beneath her slowly, not blinking.  A slowly building tremor shook books from their places, caused by a sound that Carmilla belatedly realized was a growl from the beast she faced.  She answered it with her own roar, hips and shoulders low to the ground.

Sizing each other up in the echo of their challenges, they moved at the same time.  When she was hunting Carmilla lead with her paws and claws when she lunged.  This beast dove with horns extended.

Carmilla wasn't there when it landed.  She hadn't jumped forward to meet her foe's charge but had used every bit of her coiled strength to drive herself in as direct a path toward the door as she could manage.  Tables, shelves, books, it all was shoved aside in her flight, left to crash and fall behind her.  If it happened to slow down any further pursuit then so be it.

She'd torn her way across a quarter of the campus before recognizing that her pursuer wasn't so much pursuing her.  Breathless, she could see the mist hover before her face in the icy air as she panted.  Shaking out of her cat form, her human form was left shivering on hands and knees on the frozen ground.

Frustrated by the lack of success, Carmilla pounded both fists in the grass.  She hadn't gotten any closer to learning what was happening to any of them, had nothing to show for any of her efforts.  Of course, her efforts against her mother had never been the most fruitful endeavors of her long life.  She'd keep trying – get into the library whatever it took, and do what she had to do to save Laura and the others.

It just wouldn't be tonight.  The bitter wind simply cut through the now chilled leather of her jacket and without body heat of her own there was no help for it.  Carmilla got to her feet with a sigh, hands tucked into her pockets.  Walking toward the dormitory, she vanished between steps, fog fading into more fog and leaving behind only the soft scent of smoke to mark her passage with only moonlight to watch her go.

She brought herself back to form in front of the window of her dark dorm room.  Not moving, Carmilla listened intently.  Laura's breathing was slow and steady, peaceful.  Carmilla let out a breath of her own as she shrugged out of her jacket and let it drop to the floor.  It was reassuring, simply listening to her breathe.  Her boots joined her jacket in the middle of the floor, pants following right after.

Laura slept peacefully, troubled not by any more strange dreams, and Carmilla let the sound of her soft sleeping sighs serenade her to her own dreamless rest.


	35. October 28, 2014 - Season 1, Episode 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning in this one for transphobia/misgendering from Perry. Unfortunately, it's part of canon, but we wanted to give everyone a heads up.

 

“My best friend since I was five thinks I’m some sort of freak.”  LaFontaine took a deep breath.  “I’d like to find something to experiment on now.”

“Yeah, or maybe just for tonight we stuff our faces with popcorn and watch bad scifi.  Because I have been marked for death by a vampire cabal and you… are fighting with your best friend.”

LaFontaine nodded.  “Yeah.  That’d be good.”

Laura patted their hand before rising to putter in the kitchenette – grabbing sodas and putting popcorn in the microwave.  LaFontaine sat, blank-faced, on Carmilla’s bed the whole time.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” Laura asked once the snacks were set and she’d pulled up Netflix on Laf’s computer.  LaFontaine nodded, then shook their head, then nodded again.  “Well, come on over here.  I’ll listen, when you’re ready.”

They took the spot by the wall, leaning heavily against it as Laura crammed herself next to them on the narrow bed, passing the bowl of popcorn over.

The entirety of  _ Starship Troopers _ passed by in silence, except for the quiet munch of popcorn and soda-slurping.  So did  _ Sharknado _ .  After the two films, they switched to science documentaries.  Halfway through a detailed tour of the facility holding the Large Hadron Collider, LaFontaine blurted out, “I don’t get it.  I just don’t.  Every single change in her life, I’ve accepted.  Supported.  Been there through it all.  And this one thing, she can’t do the same for me?  She came out as a lesbian, I held her hand while she told her parents and all through the screaming match afterwards.  She wanted to come here to study folklore and mythology?  I came too, despite getting  _ much _ better offers from three other schools.  She suddenly doesn’t want to be a folklore major two weeks into our first semester and I was like sure…”  They trailed off, rubbing at their eyes as tears sprouted.

“Wait, Perry’s a lesbian?” Laura blurted out.

LaFontaine rolled their eyes.  “You  _ really _ need to get your gaydar checked.  But yes, she is.”

Sighing, Laura asked, “Well, have you given her all the stuff to read that you sent me?  Shown her your tumblr?”

They shook their head.  “I tried but she kind of shut down on me.  And she doesn’t like tumblr.  It’s not organized enough.  I mean, you’ve seen her Pinterest.”

Laura made a face.  Perry’s Pinterest board was the most hyper-organized social media account she’d ever seen.  “Have you tried again?  I mean, her being transphobic by not respecting your pronouns is a problem, LaF.”

They grinned at her.  “You really  _ did _ read what I sent you.”

Shrugging, she replied, “Of course I did.  It was a good distraction from y’know, ancient vampire cabals,  _ and _ I learned about something important to a friend.”

They flushed, and their grin widened.  They nudged her with their elbow, then grabbed and steadied her as she almost fell off the bed.  “Whoops, sorry.”

“No problem!”  Laura’s face fell back into a serious mien.  “I know I really only have the like… Nonbinary 101 stuff down.  But she’s hurting you, isn’t she?”  LaFontaine looked down at the computer screen, at the paused documentary.  A flush crept up their neck.  In a comforting gesture, Laura took their hand and squeezed gently.  “It’s okay.”

“No, no it’s not okay!” they burst out.  “I’m  _ finally _ figuring things out.  The gender stuff.  And all the weird here.  And she just won’t… she won’t  _ see  _ any of it!  She’s got these blinders on and won’t acknowledge one - goddamn - thing.  She has to act like everything is perfectly  _ normal _ and I can’t question it at all.  I hate how this place has changed her!”

Silence stretched on after their outburst.  “She hasn’t always been like this?” Laura tentatively asked after a while.

They shook their head furiously.  “No, no, she used to be different.  Open.  I don’t know what happened.”

“She still loves you, I’m sure of it.”

LaFontaine let out a bitter laugh.  “I think she does.  But does she love the ‘Susan’ she thought she knew, or the person I actually am?”

“I don’t know, LaF, I don’t know.”  Laura leaned into them, trying to offer some comfort.

“The funny thing is, I don’t know either.”  They turned to Laura, their eyes big and wet.  “Let’s watch Jurassic Park, eh?”

She nodded and snuggled against them as the opening sequence played.

 

* * *

 

Outside the dormitory, Carmilla had enough reasons to be vigilant, even with Laura grudgingly on her side, to not let herself get taken by surprise again.  She caught sight of Perry well before the floor don reached her, the other girl too distracted to even notice Carmilla in her path until the vampire had caught her by the shoulders.  She didn't hold her, seeing the look on her friend's face and knowing wisdom.  “Perry, hey.”  She leaned in without thinking twice about it, frowning.  “What's wrong?”

Perry was surprised by her sudden appearance, blinking.  “Oh, Carmilla -”  Her mouth moved without sound for a moment.  Then she was abruptly pulling Carmilla into her arms, hugging her with her face buried in her shoulder.  “Susan – LaFontaine – I just -”

Of their own volition Carmilla's arms curled up the taller girl's back.  “It's okay.  Breathe,” she coaxed in a soft whisper.  Fair colored curls felt the same beneath her gently stroking fingers.  Carmilla closed her eyes despite herself.  Her friends had been very dear to her and she felt their loss as a still aching hole deep inside her.  They had been family for a lifetime, supporting her and loving her as well as anyone could.  To be able to give some small measure of that support and love back to her now, it was all Carmilla could do.

Leaning back finally, Perry brushed tears from her cheeks with both hands.  “I'm sorry, I just -”

“It's alright.  Do you want to talk about it?”  Perry nodded immediately and Carmilla caught her hand in one of her own, guiding her off the concrete path.  They walked in silence, meandering through the trees that littered the campus.  It was colder in the shade but Perry retrieved her scarf from her bag, wrapping it around her neck.  Carmilla's beanie was already on her head but she pulled the wool down over her ears.

Perry couldn't abide the quiet for long and so Carmilla simply waited for her friend to start speaking.  The feelings couldn't help but come out of her.  Carmilla just had to wait and listen.  “We've been friends forever, but this is – she's changing so fast now and I don't know how to keep up or who she even is -”

“They,” Carmilla put in quietly, tone gentle.  “They're they now.”  She didn't know how to do this, only that it needed doing.  Perry couldn't seem to hear it from LaFontaine, but if she would talk to Carmilla then Carmilla would try and help if she could.  “They're still your friend.”  Perry looked sideways at her without speaking.  “No matter what it feels like has changed, I can tell you that that hasn't.”

It was an easy assurance to make, even not knowing them as she once had.  How the pair felt for each other was obvious to everyone without exception.  Even Laura had seen it and she hadn't seen Danny's crush.  Nor yet noticed Carmilla's own love for her.

“You barely know us,” Perry reminded her unnecessarily.

Carmilla smiled, shaking her head.  “And half that time you've had me tied to a chair.”  

Perry's mouth fell open to object.  “It was a week and I wanted nothing to do with it!”

Smirking, Carmilla shook her head.  “It was nine days,” she pointed out, relieved to get a sheepish grin from Perry.  “But you were fairly... present, if you recall.  Both of you.”  Her smile went soft, very nearly sweet.  “The name matters, it does.  But if you ask me it hasn't changed how they feel about you.”  Turning to face her directly, Carmilla breathed deep.  Helpless to stop herself, one hand reached up to cup Perry's face.  “Has it changed how you feel about them?”

She blinked, denying it without hesitation, “Of course it doesn't!”  Perry blinked as if surprised by her own answer.

Carmilla only smiled, knowing exactly what response was coming.  “You really love them, don't you?”

“I love  _ her _ ,” cried Perry, distraught.  “I don't know how to love  _ them _ !  I don't know how to do this, any of this!  We're here and there's brain parasites and rituals and  _ vampires _ .”  She had the grace to look sheepish.  “I beg your pardon, but -”

Shaking her head, Carmilla's smile continued to peek out.  “No offense taken,” she promised, laughing quietly.

Perry's voice was serious and it faded the small smile from Carmilla's face.  “She –  _ they _ -” she corrected herself pointedly, Carmilla's smile blazing back.  “- are so involved in all of this and it's dangerous!”  Seeing the smile on the vampire's face and misreading it, she lashed out.  “Maybe you didn't take those girls, but you're still all tangled up in whatever is going on and now they are,” she didn't flinch that time and Carmilla smiled but kept it shadowed, “constantly running out to get themselves into some new kind of peril.”  Perry glared, fierce and protective, and the sense of familiarity and recognition was so complete that it nearly bowled Carmilla over.  The fight abruptly went out of her with the next sighing breath.  “I don't know how to keep them safe.  LaFontaine or Laura or anyone else.”

Carmilla didn't reach out to hug her again where once she would have.  Her hands went into her jacket pockets, shoulders rolling forward.  “You're not alone there,” she admitted under her breath.  Perry blinked, confused by the statement.  “I'm trying to help.  I promise you that.”  She stepped forward but didn't touch Perry.  “Whatever it takes.”

Surprised by the vampire's intensity, Perry could find nothing to say but “Thank you.”

Carmilla nodded, taking a half step back.  Her hand rose to push her hair back.  “Yeah, well...”  She shrugged.  They were both in love with passionate fools with more drive than sense.

“Thank you for speaking with me,” Perry said, sensing the end of the encounter.  “I need to be going.”

Nodding again, Camille breathed deep.  “Of course.”  She was still nodding pointlessly when Perry walked away.  There was nothing else for it.  The conversation had gone as well as it could have.  Whatever result it may have would be Perry's to enact.

The sun had begun to sink while they'd talked, the hoot of an owl making Carmilla's scalp prickle.  Perry's footsteps were still audible, leaves crunching under her feet, and Carmilla fell into soundless step behind her at a distance.  There was no way she'd leave her friend to walk the campus alone in the gathering dark.  While she waited she caught herself twisting her bracelets round and around her wrist.  Slipping her fingertip under the leather edge, she could trace the words inscribed there without needing to see them.

She had dealt with many kinds of pain and grief, loving and losing the girl she loved only to find her again.  Having to start over and over, it was maddening.  Fate was cruel.  She wasn't sure that losing LaFontaine and Perry, the friendship and trust that had become her foundation over the course of a lifetime, wasn't equally as painful as losing her lovers.  To find them again but still be missing the friendship, having them both exist beyond her, it was frequently torment.

Tonight it felt a bit less so.

The floor don's errand was a quick one and she didn't notice the shadow in the dusk that followed her back to the dorm again.  Carmilla made sure Perry was safely in her room at the end of the hall before she returned to her own.  

The lights were dim, only Laura's lamp and the fairy lights on when she came through the door.  LaFontaine was still there, lying on Laura's bed with their laptop.  Curled against their shoulder, Laura whimpered before the door had finished swinging closed behind Carmilla.  Crossing to her side of the room, Carmilla clicked on her own lamp.  Laura's next groan made her turn.

Judging from the way LaFontaine jumped, it wasn't something that had been ongoing before the vampire's arrival.  “What the hell?”

Hesitating only for a second, Carmilla moved forward.  “Hey, hey, hey, Laura, Laura, Laura.”  She reached for her shoulder, her hip.  Laura jumped, waking finally.  “Laura, you're dreaming.”  Her right hand shifted to stroke soothingly through smooth, straight hair.  It had always calmed Lill, having her hair played with.  Laura heaved a shaky breath and Carmilla stepped closer, leaning in.  “Hey.”

“Blood,” said Laura between breaths.  “There was blood everywhere again.  It filled the room until it was an ocean, and – and -”  LaFontaine set their laptop aside, listening in horror.  Carmilla rubbed Laura's shoulder, past caring about keeping her distance.  “Above it, this light – nothing should shine like that.  Like the rotted heart of the world.”

“Well, that's not creepy,” noted LaFontaine with a frown.  They leaned forward to catch Carmilla's eye.  “Do you think these are still the dreams that mean she's been chosen?”

“She shouldn't be having these dreams anymore,” Carmilla answered her, still touching Laura absently before she realized and dropped her hands away to her own legs.  “The charm should have chased the vampires away.”

Rubbing her neck, Laura shook her head in denial.  “I don't think it's the vampires.  It's the girl.”  She looked up from her place on the bed to Carmilla sanding just beside her.  “The girl in the nightdress.”

Carmilla felt her heart drop away to roll through her stomach.  “You saw her?”

“I think so.  She was in the room as the blood rose.  She didn't even try and swim.  Why didn't she try and swim?”  Laura turned to ask LaFontaine.

Every word felt like a blow.  Ell had been the start of all of this for her, and the only one of Laura's past lives to have been involved in the ritual in Stryia.

“Did she say anything?” Carmilla asked, catching Laura's shoulder again to draw her gaze back.  She had to know if it was Ell Laura saw in her dreams.  Had to know for once and all what her mother had done to the girl.

“No.”  Her head swung from side to side in denial.  “Maybe.”  A half-second pause, looking into nothing.  “Maybe not to go into the light – because the light is hungry.”  The distress was clean on her face.  

“Awesome.  I didn't need to sleep again ever,” LaFontaine declared, elbows on their knees.

Hasty, Carmilla interjected.  “That's everything she said?”

“Yeah, I'm sorry.”  Laura twisted to see her again, watching Carmilla's face fall.  “You asked about her before.  It's her, isn't it?  Ell?”  Able to feel the pitying looks from the both Carmilla dropped her hand away once more and turned aside, not wanting to see their expressions.

“I don't know,” Carmilla said, taking the two steps toward her bed.  “I've never seen her,” she admitted, sitting down and facing them again.  It lasted only a moment before she dropped her gaze to the floor.  She couldn't look into Laura's face and talk about this.  About Ell.  “The girls we take talk about her sometimes.”  She sighed, hands fidgeting.  “A little girl with a mole right here.”   She tapped one finger just below her right eye.  “She's never tried to say anything to me.”

LaFontaine spoke slowly into the pause.  “Who are we talking about, now?”

Laura answered, explaining, “Her ex.  Kind of.  She got taken a long time ago.”  Her voice changed when she spoke to Carmilla.  “Maybe she can't get to you.  Maybe it's like a non-vampire thing.”

Dejected, Carmilla's only response was, “Sure.”

Trying to work through the information download, LaFontaine said, “The light is hungry.  Not to get all fascinated by weird things, but maybe it's a clue.  Maybe it has something to do with the second stage of the parasite?”

“Maybe, but how are we going to cross-reference some ancient evil light with weird, parasitic brain-worms?” Laura countered.  The answer came to her without either of the others having to give feedback and she groaned, her shoulders slumping.  “Oh no.”

Carmilla let them make their plans without speaking up in favor or against their nighttime visit to the library.  She simply found a distraction in playing with a large knife.  It was something to do with her hands while her mind worked.  If they were going then she was too.  There was no discussion to be had on that matter.  She could only hope for more success than she'd had earlier in the week.  If they didn't find anything she was going to reconsider her plan to take Laura, LaFontaine, and Perry and drag them out of Styria.  Every day they got closer to the sacrifice the more danger they were all in.

Laura was dreaming of Ell.  It had happened before during the sacrifice ritual.  Never to her, but she'd heard it from enough girls to be able to put it together.  Now it was happening to Laura.  She knew perfectly well what came next – disappearances and death.  It had happened to Ell.  It would not happen to Laura.

“Oh, hell no!” LaFontaine declared to Laura, drawing Carmilla's attention away from the knife she was still absentmindedly playing with.  “We are not apologizing to them.  We are ready for the weird.  We thrive on it.”  Carmilla knew that tone.  She caught herself smiling.  “We tape our flamethrowers to our pulse-rifles, and we make the weird submit.”  They paused to look directly into the camera.  “We're going to the library!”  Carmilla had to bite back a full grin, watching them stride confidently from the room with a baseball bat in one hand.  When her roommate turned to look at her she met Laura's gaze with a raised eyebrow and a fond smirk, shrugging.

They weren't ready for the weird that was unstoppably coming for them.  Not yet.  But somehow it didn't feel as hopeless as it had.  Because her friends were finally starting to feel like her friends again and the girl she loved was looking into her eyes.


	36. November 18, 2014 - Season 1, Episode 28-29

 

_ Worst crush eve _ r. __ Two weeks ago it would have been the worst news she could have gotten, to learn that Laura had feelings for her.  But LaFontaine had been taken and the sacrifice was imminent so finding out that the girl she loved might like her even a little bit had risen to be actually good news.  With Laura having been passed over for the victim pool she didn't have to maintain the illusion of distance.  But she'd never imagined that LaFontaine would go missing in her place.  She should have protected them all, she'd been stupid, but it was too late now.  She'd just have to find them.  That was all there was to it.

Unfortunately the campus was positively teeming with every other creature and beast made itchy by the swiftly approaching ritual, making it hard to track any particular human solely by scent.  She'd found more than one couple screwing behind dark corners and taking their lives into their own hands, sniffed out Summer Society girls observing their own rituals nearly as as old and venerated as the ones her mother carried out.

What she hadn't crossed over was the familiar scent of scorch and warmth, clean, plain soap, and hair gel that had meant safety and home for so long.  Now it meant something that might optimistically and on its best day be considered friendship.  Of a sort.  It didn't really matter how LaFontaine saw her now.  It didn't change how Carmilla felt about them.  Or what she would do to get them back.

Her feelings didn't factor in helping her find them though.  She'd been prowling the campus most of the night, her panther's enhanced senses aiding in the search.  To no avail.  Whatever her mother did with the people she took, Carmilla wasn't going to find them tonight.

She was on her way back to the dorm when she finally did cross a familiar scent.  It was not the one she was looking for, however.  The movement of leaves overhead made her pause.  The wormy little coward knew what he was doing, hiding where he was.  The angle was all wrong for her panther to reach him with a lunge.

“Hey, sis,” Will said from above, regaining his human form.  His feet swung on either side of the branch he was sitting on and Carmilla edged around to ready herself for a leap at him.  He saw her movement and prudently pulled his feet up onto the limb with the rest of himself.  “What?  We can't have a nice conversation?”

Shaking her head, Carmilla resumed her humanity crouched low in the dry leaves of the late year.  “If you tell me where the Dean keeps the people for the ritual then I won't kill you tonight,” she said firmly.

He scoffed, leaning back against the trunk of the tree with his arms crossed behind his head.  “Talk is cheap, Carm.”  It rankled to hear that name from him.  “You've been threatening to kill me for forty years and I’m not dead yet, am I?”

“It's coming,” she promised, voice low and growling.  She'd tormented him for years following Lill's murder, but as with everything else about this cycle at Silas she felt like they were reaching their end.  Whichever way things worked out she was done with Will.  Done with her mother and the machinations.  One or the other of them wasn't going to make it out of Styria this time.  It was just a gnawing feeling that had been growing low in her gut since she'd walked in the door and found Laura waiting in her computer chair on the other side.

If Laura was to walk away from this then Maman and Will couldn't.  It was that simple.

If Will couldn't feel it in the very air between them then he was more the fool for it.  The end of this thing was coming irretrievably for them all.  She was prepared to do what she must to make sure her people were standing on the other side.

When, exactly, Will fell wasn't something she particularly cared about.  Tonight was as good a time as any as far as she was concerned.  He'd lived far longer than her preference anyway.  If he could be useful then he could live.  For a bit longer, at least.

“You're still so attached to these humans,” Will noted, almost absently, from his perch.  “I have to admit, the resemblance is there.”  Both hands pressed down on the branch as he leaned forward to look down at Carmilla.  “You can't seriously think that they're the same people though.”

“You took LaFontaine deliberately,” Carmilla realized.  Her panther could probably reach the limb.  If she could get her paws on it, she knew she could tear it down.  Tear him apart in short order directly after.

Will shrugged, resuming his reclined posture.  “You've been so focused on protecting the latest  _ love of your life _ ,” he reasoned sarcastically.  “It was easy enough to take one of your redheads while you were looking the other way.”

“I'm going to get them back,” she promised.  Her voice was deadly serious.  “You tell me where they are, I'll let you live.  You can leave Styria and I won't follow you.  You can go your own way.  Stay away from me and mine and you'll never see me again.  We both win.”

He scoffed.  “I'm not going anywhere.  I'm not afraid of you.”  Bravado made him drop his legs, leaning forward again.  Carmilla tensed below, her body ready to leap for him.  “Mother's already mad at you, you know.  One more screw-”

Claws and powerful paws captured his heel, gravity and corded muscle dragging him back to earth.  His own avatar's armored scales had replaced human flesh before they were both slammed to the ground.  A reactionary whip with his tail caught her across the eyes and allowed Will to wriggle free.  Shaking her head to clear her vision only gave him precious seconds to get beyond her reach.  He was quick in his serpent-like form, sleek and fast on his feet, but so was his sibling's feline persona.

Eyes still stinging, Carmilla lunged after him.  Will twisted to avoid her heavy paws and the claws that would tear him apart, scrambling across dry leaves to regain distance between them.  Carmilla's next jump landed so close that he felt the brush of bone on his flank, the tremors in the earth from the big cat's landing.  He lashed back with his own needle-sharp claws, raking them across Carmilla's eyes to make her recoil.

She growled, using her longer reach to send him tumbling.  Unable to reach his feet before Carmilla was on him again, Will turned onto his back, all four legs kicking and scratching at her belly.  Carmilla fell back with a roar, poisoned wounds on her chest only deep enough to sting.

Taking the advantage of space Will hissed and screeched, calling out to his Zeta brothers for aid.  Carmilla pounced, front feet striking him hard in the flank.  He twisted his long neck, sinking his teeth into her fur and bearing down toward flesh.  Disengaging, she tore herself away before he could get his bite into her.

Neither could just run from the fight though, not after nearly a century of circling each other.  Pressing whatever advantage he thought he might have with Carmilla off balance, Will darted forward before his sister could get all four paws on the ground.  Neither one could help sliding on the dry leaves but Will managed to get his narrow head and a shoulder under Carmilla's chest, driving up and twisting to slash at her belly.

Howling and hissing, they scuffled in the grass, clawing and biting.  Carmilla had the advantage of weight but in such tight quarters Will had the edge with speed.  Focused only on hurting each other, they paid no mind to the noise they were making.  

Others had noticed though, and were coming.  If it was Zetas Carmilla would be cooked.  If it was the Summers they were both likely to be skewered.  If the Alchemy Club were the ones crunching closer through the leaves then they would probably be tagged and released, tracked as part of some insane experiment.

None of the options had an outcome with Carmilla either alive or ending her brother once and for all so with one last heavy, vicious swipe with her paw, she kicked Will off of her and darted off into the dark as the voices and steps moved in on their position.  If she got caught, got killed, then the people she loved were dead.

No one was fool enough to pursue her.

Usually she would resume her human form when in the dorm but she was still keyed up from the scuffle with William, padding up stairs that creaked beneath her weight.  The door opened before her shoulder, a lack of security that made her sigh.  As if they weren't in the middle of a mystical human sacrifice.  As though one of their own wasn't currently missing.

Growling under her breath, Carmilla butted the door closed again with her head.  The lock built into the knob was paltry but she pushed it regardless.  Anyone stupid enough to come through this door tonight would find her teeth and claws ready to tear them apart.

Perry was sleeping in Laura's bed, not exactly peacefully.  Carmilla padded over to nudge the blanket up higher against her shoulder.  When she withdrew she was startled to see wide open eyes staring through the darkness at her.

“Carmilla, is that you?” Perry whispered.  Her arm stretched out slowly when the big dark head inclined gradually.  Carmilla didn't move, didn't blink as fingers reached for her ear.  “You're so soft,” cooed Perry in wonder, touching her fur lightly at first and then letting her hand cup the top of the big cat's skull.  Her fur was deep, thick, and cold still from the night air.  Perry sat up without taking her hand off of Carmilla's head, slipping off the bed to kneel with her on the floor.

Both hands moved across still muscles, fascinated.  The big chest began to rumble and she withdrew quickly.  Moving without thought, Carmilla's head ducked to nuzzle Perry's shoulder.  She purred when arms wrapped themselves around her shoulders, Perry trying to keep her balance.

“It is you,” she sighed, stroking down the cat's back with one hand, the other instinctively finding the place behind Carmilla's ear that made her go nerveless.  The exploring touch wandered across her ribs then withdrew, fingertips wet.  “Are you – you're bleeding!” Perry breathed.  She touched the spot again, trying to determine the depth of the wound and it made Carmilla yowl.

Not afraid of the bared teeth, Perry pushed her down to the floor.  “Be quiet.  Laura's sleeping,” she hissed, hushing her.  “Just let me look.”  Moving to let moonlight show her the clawing scratches on Carmilla's flank, her stomach.  “Are you – does it hurt very badly?”  

Carmilla picked up her head to shake it from side to side.  Perry scratched behind her ear again, under her jaw.  The thick muscles were right there under skin and soft fur.  She should be terrified by the promise of death incarnate lying before her but Perry felt comfortable and safe.  Without being able to speak even, she knew that this creature would die before anything would happen to her.

“Can I do anything for you?”

Carmilla lifted her head again but only to lick Perry's hand lightly.  She shifted from her side, getting her feet back under her and settling in to watch the door.  Perry studied her for a quiet moment before climbing back into bed.

Listening to her settle in, Carmilla didn't twitch.  It took Perry a long time to fall asleep but she didn't move, only waited and watched over them, the ones she had left.


	37. November 21, 2014 - Season 1, Episode 33-34

 

Meatloaf had it right.   _ I will do anything for love, but I won't do that. _  There should be a line, a limit to what one person would do for another.  Carmilla hadn't drawn her line at death, or mayhem, but maybe she should have drawn it at diving.  Pressure depth and nitrogen narcosis really weren't issues for vampires.  Not all vampires had her issues with drowning, though.

She really should have thought about it before going all noble.   _ Of course I’m doing it for you _ .  It was true, but that didn't mean she needed to say it.  As she'd always done, Laura – in any form or lifetime – had a way of drawing things out of her that no one else could get. 

And what did she have to show for it?  A rusted sword that may or may not destroy her soul if she wielded it.  She'd lost the tiniest bit of trust she'd managed to garner from Laura.  They were one day away from the sacrifice.

She couldn't close her eyes.  Couldn't even breathe.

As far as the entire scale of shit they were in, it wasn't a huge thing.  She didn't need to breathe, didn't even really need sleep.  Carmilla wasn't even sure she  _ could  _ sleep right now, given everything that was coming with the next sunrise.

She hadn't expected this when she'd suggested she retrieve the sword.  If she had she might have kept her mouth shut.  They didn't exactly have another plan brewing but she had the deal with her mother and there was still time to get Laura, LaFontaine, and Perry the hell out of Austria.  She would take them kicking and fighting if she had to.  If worse came to worst she wasn't opposed to just diving into the hole and tearing whatever was in there apart with her teeth.

It had been bad as soon as she'd dove beneath the dark water.  The blackness, the pressure, no air.  It was all too close to drowning in the coffin.  She'd come too far and promised too much to go back to campus without the sword so she kept swimming, pushing herself to deeper and deeper depths.  With every kick she reminded herself that it was water, not blood.  There were differences, of course, that helped.  The water was cold where the blood had been still warm as it had flooded into her prison.  It had still tasted like life when it had risen to choke her.  This was just water, brackish and icy.  The texture was all different as well.  Water was thin, had tiny bits of sand and shells and seaweed in it.  Blood felt thicker but somehow smoother.  Whatever cells life was made of were indistinguishable to the sense of touch.

Without blood flowing in her veins her motions were harder, stiffer, and more clumsy, but it didn't impede her progress.  As she got deeper beneath the waves' surface it had the additional benefit of saving her from the pounding of pressure in her skull.  She had no blood pressure to be affected by the surrounding force of the water.

Any one thing she told herself she could have gotten past.  The combination though, had brought her to her knees.  Dripping wet on the shore right after surfacing, Carmilla only dimly recognized that the sword was gripped so tight in her hand that it was nearly embedded in her palm.  Coughing and shaking, it had been all she could do not to drop it, drop to her knees, and not get up again.

It was hard to remember why the sword was important, why she had to keep moving.  Why did anything matter when all she could see was darkness, all she could feel was pressure?  It wasn't real but she couldn't help choking and spitting, trying to get everything out of her mouth and stomach.  Throwing up violently in the dark, everything in her came out onto the stony beach.

It didn't get the taste of blood from her mouth.  It was all she could taste, everything she could smell.  She was ravenous at the same time that she wanted to never eat again.  To let herself waste away.  Perry wouldn't even look for her this time.

Because if Carmilla didn't take the sword back to Silas Perry would die.  She and LaFontaine and Laura were all dead within a day if she didn't pull herself out of that coffin again.

Her first steps were stumbling.  She felt dizzy and sick.  Her eyes were stinging with the effort not to blink, tears burning paths down her face.  It was the only heat she had left.  The sword dragged the ground behind her, barely held between limp fingers as she shuffled off the shore.  It was dark in the cave, too close to the impenetrable blackness of the coffin.

Taking a firmer grip on the sword, Carmilla let herself dissolve, fade away to nothing.  When she had form again she was in open air, under the bright light of the nearly full moon.  She hadn't really had a destination in mind, beyond the knowledge that she wouldn't be welcome back in her own dorm room, but she was back on the Silas campus.  There was a feeling of energy in the air that made it unmistakable without seeing any landmarks.

Carmilla took a breath that felt like her first, gasping and then coughing.  She dropped the sword to catch herself, hands on her knees as she retched the very last of the water out of her lungs.  When she forced herself upright she made herself keep breathing.  The cool night air helped steady her.

Warmth came next on her priority list.  Warmth would help her feel like a person again.  She needed somewhere to stash the sword.  If it was the only way to save her people then she couldn't risk being seen carrying it around the school.  Dry clothes would be a bonus.

Having been on campus more than infrequently in the last two hundred years Carmilla knew more than a few hidey-holes on the grounds.  Possibly even some her mother didn't know about.  Shaking as she walked, the sword remained over her shoulder, the grip held tightly in her hand.  An unattended gym bag outside the swim team locker room provided her with clothing.

Carmilla had enough foresight to select her hiding place for the capability to set a fire without burning down, grateful for her own supernatural ability to create flames that provided dry heat that was exactly what she needed.  The clothes in the stolen bag were too big by a lot but they were dry and warmed quickly enough beside the fire.  The sword was even slightly impressive by dancing firelight.

Her hiding place was a cave off the tunnels beneath the school, very similar to the one she'd climbed through to find the beach but it was easier to be calm, to breathe, when she was staring into the fire.  There was light and sound and no blood anywhere around her.  Soon the hunger would become pertinent but for now she didn't need it.  Not while the smell of blood in her nose was only slightly edged out by the scent of burning pine.

Underneath the sweat socks and some kind of fitness bracelet she found a tablet computer that was unlocked with a slide of one finger.  Her fingers itched to pull up Laura's channel and see what further foolishness she'd gotten herself into but she restrained herself.

Instead she made a different selection, typing in a familiar name.  Right now there was only one person she needed to see.  Mattie didn't answer though.  She didn't know what possessed her but she clicked to record a message.  The computer shook in her hand and her breathing went shaky.  “Mattie, I just – I don't know.  I'm having a problem and I could really use -”

The screen flickered with the notification of an incoming call.  Her sister's face filled the screen as she clicked.  “Darling!”  The pleased smile of greeting fell away as she noted Carmilla's pallor.  “What's wrong?  You look like death.  What happened?”

Knowing that her sister was worried Carmilla mustered a smile.  “It's no big -”

“Talk to me, my darling,” Mattie interjected, head shaking.  “You wouldn't have called unless it was important.  Tell me.”

Carmilla slumped forward, hair falling across her face in damp locks.  “I did something tonight and I wasn't – I didn't expect this.”  Mattie didn't push, only pursed her lips and waited.  “What do you remember about getting me out of that coffin?”

It earned her a shocked gasp.  For all that they'd spent years together after Mattie had pulled her out of the hole that night was one they'd never talked about.

“Sweetness, no,” Mattie whispered sympathetically.  “What did you do?”

Carmilla laughed, hoarse and bitter.  “Would you believe something stupid for a girl?”

Blinking, Mattie's mouth fell open.  “Foolish – I taught you -”

“I know, Mattie.  I didn't call for -”

“Tell me what happened,” Mattie told her, keeping her tone gentle only because it was her baby sister.

“I dove.”  Mattie frowned.  “Underwater,” Carmilla clarified.  “There was something we needed -”

“You mean this girl?”

“-something I needed, then, and it was sealed in a cavern at the bottom of a cliff a thousand feet below sea-level.”  Mattie sighed, able to see where this was going.  “I don't need the air, obviously, and there wasn't really any pressure -”

“You need to eat, love,” Mattie told her firmly.

Carmilla smiled.  “Soon, I promise.”

“It'll help.  You'll feel better.”

“I'm not sure.”  She took a shaky, trembling breath.  “I smell it.  Right now.  Ever since I came out of the water.  It's in my nose, my throat, my lungs.  I'm breathing now but I couldn't at first, when I got to the surface.”

Mattie breathed deep, closing her eyes at memories of her beloved baby sister soaked through with rotted blood and filth as she'd pulled her out of the coffin their mother had imprisoned her in.  “My darling monster,” she sighed, looking at her again.  “Are you going to do something stupid?”

Carmilla's shoulders rose and fell in the smallest of shrugs.  “Probably most definitely.”

“I can be there in two days.”

“It'll be done tomorrow,” Carmilla told her, shaking her head.  “One way or another.”

Mattie scowled.  “Mircalla, you better be your perfect self the next time I see you,” she said, a clear warning in her tone.  “Do you understand me?”

She laughed, relaxing ever so slightly.  It was relief just to see her sister's face.  “I'll do my best.”

“I don't care what you have to do or who you have to kill, you need to be the one walking away from whatever mess your little girlfriend has gotten you into now,” Mattie clarified herself deliberately.  “Are we understanding each other?”

“I hear you, Mattie.  It's not that simple.”

“Make it that simple, my darling.  Or I will be exceedingly displeased.”  She pouted in an attempt to be playful but the crease between her brows betrayed her earnestness.  “I promise you, the world is not ready for my vengeance.”

Carmilla leaned into the camera, cooing, “Mattie, Mattie, Mattie, sweetheart, I didn't mean to scare you.  I'm going to be fine, okay?  I promise.”

“Mircalla von Karnstein, if you're lying to me you better hope you don't make it because I will kill you if you don't call me as soon as it's done.”

Laughing, Carmilla let her head fall against her own shoulder.  “I miss you.  I wish you were here.”

Her sister's nose wrinkled in distaste.  “I wish you were here, how about that?”  Her affection was clear on her face as she returned the smile through the screen, conquering miles of distance between them.  “Lie down, darling.”

It took her a few moments to get settled, a towel from the duffel bag and the bag itself providing blanket and pillow.  The computer was shifted closer to her face out of necessity but it was nice, feeling as if her sister was really right there with her.

“Close your eyes,” coaxed Mattie softly.  “I'm here with you now.  I promise.”  Doing so, Carmilla heard her sister moving and then the hiss of a record player.  The quiet murmur of Mattie speaking to someone was audible but indistinguishable.  The music took her right back to the apartment they'd shared in Paris.  “I'll stay until you fall asleep, love.”

“Love you, Mattie,” Carmilla murmured, soothed by her presence.  Nothing would happen while Mattie watched over her.

“I love you too, my heart.”  Falling asleep, Mattie's humming blended with the popping logs in the fire to form a peaceful serenade.


	38. November 27, 2014 - Season 1, Episode 35

 

She was going to fail.  Again.  Another life snatched from her.  Another girl without a future.  Carmilla was running faster and harder than she'd ever run in her life and it wasn't going to be enough.  The earth around her rumbled, forcing her on.

Her boots skidded on loose stone as the tunnel opened into a much larger chamber.  Her mother's minions were scattered around a pit in the center of the room.  Laura and the rest were in their midst.  The effort of fighting each other appeared to be falling down the priority list of everyone involved as from the center of the crevasse a glowing light was rising.  Like the sun coming up underground.

It lit the room, chasing the dark shadows from the high ceiling with speed as it rose.  Bright enough that it should have burned her to ash in a moment, even Carmilla was caught by the view.  She wasn't the only one, each person in the cavern watched, captured helplessly by the light as though in a thrall.  Laura moved, a single step closer to the edge, and Carmilla snapped free of the fugue in her mind as if there were a literal tether that bound them together.

Instinct deeper than humanity made her huge cat lunge, feline body weaving through the people that parted them.  Laura didn't take another step before Carmilla was there.  Rearing up on her back feet, her teeth caught the back of Laura's shirt to haul her back from the edge of the pit.  She put herself between Laura and the pit before she let go.

Laura gasped and gaped when Carmilla's form changed from her avatar back to herself.  The sword was in her hand, fingers gripped tight and white on the hilt.  Their eyes met and locked, Carmilla feeling the air leave her lungs.  Laura's mouth fell open and she swayed on her feet.  Carmilla's empty hand shot forward to catch her, the contact between them electric.

They were standing between the light and the dark.  Laura turned her arm to squeeze Carmilla's wrist as they broke their gaze to stare at the sword.  The blade seemed to eat the light as fast as the rising orb could emit it.  Laura clung tighter to Carmilla's arm, the hand at her elbow squeezing in reciprocation.

A scream from across the chamber echoed and bounced, the sound becoming incarnate in the pounding of wings.  Carmilla disengaged from Laura as quickly as she could, sending the human girl stumbling backwards away from the pit as she fought back against her mother's horde of beaks and claws.

Carmilla's panther growled through her human throat, the two supernatural beings finally dropping the pretense that they were on the same side once and for all.  After so long, scratching and clawing at each other weren't enough.  The blackness of bird wings drowned out the light without being pulled into the vacuum of the blade, shifting form and matter until the Dean was squarely facing her daughter.

Without waiting to see more than her mother's mouth opening to speak Carmilla cocked back with the Blade of Hastur.  The hilt made a very satisfying crunch when it broke her nose, sending the taller woman tumbling directly over the edge of the chasm.  It felt nearly anticlimactic after three hundred years of struggle but there was no time for reflection.

The light had grown to engulf the entirety of the room, glowing shades of figures walking amongst them.  There was a nearly physical sense to the glow.  Like mist, a feeling of being  _ just _ nearly tangible.  The people suddenly on every side of the stupefied humans were the same, hovering ever so slightly out of reach.

Movement beside her captured Carmilla's gaze.  It was Ell. As she'd been the first time Carmilla had ever seen her, smiling shyly but with her whole heart in the expression.  She reached out and Carmilla could do nothing else but lift her hand to meet her.  Carmilla felt the tears stinging at her eyes, burning down her cheek.  Her breath was shaky.  Blinking to clear her vision, Ell's face flickered to become Lorelei.  Carmilla choked back a sob, her hand shaking.  She knew she couldn't touch her.  Lorelei was dead.  Ell was dead.  The specter’s face became Laurel.  Carmilla's hand lowered slowly, trembling, to wipe her own tears away.  The face flickered to become Layla for a second before cycling through Lorelei and Laurel again, landing on Lill.  

It was a lure, one more attempt to drag anyone into the belly of the light.  Carmilla pitied everyone else and whatever temptations they saw beckoning them forward.  Because there was nothing she wouldn't do to be able to see the girls she'd loved again.  To have Laura look at her and  _ remember _ .

Ell, Lorelei, Laurel, Lill, even Layla, they were all gone from her.  Beyond her protection or her love.  Laura was right beside her, sliding fingers through her own slowly and tentatively.  Carmilla cleared her throat.  “You know, I really am starting to hate this heroic vampire crap.”  There was still one thing she could do for this girl she had loved so completely for so long.  Squeezing once with her hand she disengaged without another word.  She could kiss her but there was not time to do it properly, nothing to say that Laura didn't already know.

Carmilla dropped Laura's hand to grip the sword with both of hers and threw herself over the edge of the pit, following her mother into the darkness.  This wasn't done until the light was dead.

It was a short fall, the sword held straight out in front of her like a lance.  The blow she struck sent a shockwave through her so strong that she nearly dropped the sword's hilt.  It was stuck firmly in the center of the light's source, momentum and the sudden inertia leaving Carmilla hanging before a massive wall of needle-sharp teeth.

It wasn't a light at all, Carmilla could see, squinting through the faltering visibility, but a fish.  An anglerfish, to be exact, but she hadn't killed it.  No, she'd only put out its light.  Above her she could hear screams from the ground.  Huge and bony, the fish thrashed, snapping its teeth and making Carmilla swing her boots clear.  Hanging at the length of her arms and by the tips of her fingers there were only so many bites she could avoid.  Fall or fight.  Those were her options.  Pity it wasn't just a hungry light like they'd thought.  Though at least she still had her soul.  There was only darkness below her, the gigantic fish shaking its lure ferociously to dislodge her and the sword.

The fish retreated into darkness, moving its lure to let its prey drop directly into its mouth.  She wasn't a virgin, or even human, but in a tight spot Carmilla supposed she would do for a snack.  She was the one who did the biting, however.  That was how she liked things and that wasn't going to change now.

Gripping the sword as firmly as she was able, Carmilla started swinging herself back and forth.  If she could build up enough momentum she could reach the wall, try and climb out of this forsaken hole.  Dimly from above she could hear the sounds of fighting, cries of pain and clashing tridents.  She imagined she could hear Laura's voice.

Preparing to make her leap, Carmilla was thrown off her pace when the fish tossed its head, slinging her and finally dislodging the vampire's stubborn grip.  Carmilla smashed into the wall, blinded by the flash of white light that splashed behind her eyelids.

The feeling of falling wiped out even the pain.  It was just long enough to make her wonder if she'd spend the rest of her eternity falling before she struck the ground and blackness became her world.  Her back hit the ground hard enough to make her cry out, the sound echoing up.  Carmilla couldn't tell if her eyes were opened or closed, if they even still worked so thick was the darkness.  She could hear the great fish moving though, teeth like bones gnashing.  Then the sound grew distant, rising above her.  Her body wasn't moving, limbs unresponsive to whatever stupid heroic impulse she might have left in her.  Laura was going to die.  Again.  She had failed.

Carmilla welcomed the oblivion of the black depths of the pit.


	39. December 3, 2014 - Season 1, Episode 36

Laura hadn't stopped touching her since Carmilla had woken up on her bed yesterday.  Not for longer than a few minutes at least.  She'd been subtle about it, by her standards, with lots of shy smiles and peeking up at her to make sure that Carmilla wasn't objecting to whatever part of the vampire's leg, arm, shoulder, face or hair her fingers had found to reassure herself that Carmilla was right there.  Any part of her that the girl wanted to touch was already hers as far as Carmilla was concerned.

It had been a long day, coming back to the land of the living,  _ finally _ shutting Laura up with a kiss the way she'd needed to for weeks, and being interrupted by LaFontaine before she could share what she could remember, hazy and indistinct as it was, from the hole with Laura's audience.

So many kisses.  They were both alive (or less on the dead side of undead), finally on the (more or less) same page, and once Laura had bustled LaFontaine out of the room with the book to make a bunch of contingency plans with Perry they'd had the room to themselves.  Laura was the one to close the door behind them but Carmilla was the one who'd reached over her shoulder to slide the chain into place, grinning happily when Laura had turned to face her, pinned between the door and her vampire girlfriend.  “So, what are w-”

Those had been the last words spoken beyond breathless whimpers of her name, Carmilla kissing her against the door without waiting to hear whatever discussion Laura wanted to have.  They were together.  The campus might still be in peril but it would wait until at least the morning.  She was only one vampire.  One crisis at a time.  Her priority, over whatever fish thing had eaten her mother, was making up for every second of lost time with Laura.

Lost time became losing time, against the door, in stumbling steps across the room, on top of the duvet of Laura's bed.  Hands wandered without mouths separating for more than gasped names, groaned pleas.  Carmilla had her face buried in Laura's neck, mouth pulling the beginnings of a slow hickey from her throat when she broke away suddenly to yawn.

It surprised them both, Laura leaning back to look down at her.  Her fingers were twisted in black hair and she scratched lightly at the vampire's scalp.  “Do you even need to breathe?” she asked, softly laughing.

Carmilla kept her face ducked in her girlfriend's neck, a purr rumbling in her chest.  It was the last thing she wanted, to sleep when the alternative was this.  “No.  Shut up.”  The hand in her hair dragged down the back of her neck, rubbing slow circles against the top of her back.

“You're all tense.  I bet you're tired.”  Laura shifted back, still touching her.  “Of course you are!” she realized.  “You were dead earlier!”

“I'm dead now,” Carmilla grumbled, leaning up on one arm.  “Can I get back to kissing you, please?”

Smiling helplessly, Laura darted in to kiss her, holding Carmilla's jaws with both hands.  “You need to sleep.”  Her cheeks went pink.  “We can kiss some more in the morning,” she offered, licking her lips.

“Oh my God.”  Carmilla craned up, seeking her mouth again.

They'd only just touched when Laura jumped back again.  “No, nope, stop.”  Groaning, Carmilla's head dropped into her chest.  “None of that either,” Laura denied her, pushing back on her shoulders with both hands.  “You should sleep.”

Giving up, at least for the moment, Carmilla pushed herself up on her arms.  Laura got off the bed immediately, making her grimace.  “Do I need clothes?”  Laura's blushed brightened, her neck flaming.  Carmilla wanted to feel the blood moving under her skin against her own lips.  She shifted toward the edge of the bed to follow Laura.  “Or did Betty throw all of my stuff away?”

“I think calling it  _ your _ stuff might be a stretch,” Laura joked, shooting a look over her shoulder at the vampire.  “I think there's some things in the closet though.”  The t-shirt she tossed caught Carmilla on top of her head.  “Can I get you anything?”  Laura was fidgeting while Carmilla shrugged, stripping off her shirt and bra and tugging the cotton over her head.

Carmilla stood to shimmy out of her leather pants, kicking off her socks.  “You can come back over here,” she said plainly, eyes raking down Laura's back in a look her partner could  _ feel _ .

“You can take my bed.”  Laura's fingers were flexing at her sides, her weight shifting from side to side.

An eyebrow arched.  “And where are you going to be?”  Another yawn betrayed her.  Laura caught it, covering her mouth with one hand.

“Don't worry,” she said from behind her fist.  “I'll use the other one.”

“Don't be ridiculous -” Carmilla tried to object but Laura only pushed her back onto her back on the mattress.  Carmilla caught her hand, holding her at the edge.  “I won't touch you if that's what you're worried about” she promised seriously.  Laura's mouth fell open but Carmilla didn't let her interject.  “I won't do anything you don't want me to do.”

“Carm,” sighed Laura, leaning forward to comb fingers through her hair, pushing it back from her face.  “I know you won't.  I'm not – I trust you.  I do,” she said.  Her hand cupped the vampire's face, thumb smoothing across her brow to soothe away the furrows between dark eyes.  “I just want you to rest.  Okay?”

There was no way for Carmilla to deny the caring in Laura's face.  It was how she'd wanted things since she'd walked through the door and met her new roommate.  Flopping back against the pillows, Carmilla made a show of settling in.  “Happy now?” she asked, Laura's hand falling from her face to rest on her chest when she changed positions.  Laura smiled, nodding.  “So will you do one thing for me?”

“Of course.”

Carmilla picked up the hand on her chest, lifting it to her mouth to kiss the inside.  The lines of Laura's palm made a story against her lips, one she wanted to learn, to read with her eyes closed.  “Don't go anywhere.  I'll sleep but you, just don't move.  Can you do that for me?”

Laura's face softened even further, her straight hair falling forward when she nodded.  “Sure.”  Curling one leg beneath her she made herself comfortable.  “I'll be right here.”

Carmilla's eyes had fallen closed faster than she would have liked if she'd been conscious long enough to notice it.  She was alive, Laura was alive, and they were together.  Combined with knowing that her mother was dead, it was everything she'd wanted for centuries.

Waking up in the still fairly early morning dark with only cool sheets in reach, Carmilla sat up and grumbled as she spotted her roommate across the room on what had previously been Carmilla's bed.  The floor between their beds was cold and Laura groaned when Carmilla pushed her shoulder.  “Shove over,” she mumbled, pulling the covers up to slide in with her.  “Save a girl's life and I'm still sleeping alone,” muttered Carmilla, darkly sarcastic.  “Bullshit.”  She shut up when Laura's hand reached back, touching her leg and then finding her fingers.

“Shut up and go to sleep,” Laura murmured even as her backside wiggled into Carmilla's hips.  She dragged the vampire's arm across her middle.  She snuggled in with her own sleepy sigh.  “You're cold.”

“Because someone didn't stay to warm me up,” Carmilla reminded her in a whisper, hauling Laura in closer against herself.  She wasn't interested in sleeping any further at the moment.  Not when there was a beautiful girl in her arms sleeping peacefully.

It was the closest she'd been to Laura without her arms tied to the chair.  Until the last twelve hours at least.  The realization made her smile in the predawn dark of their room.  Shifting up against the pillow they were sharing, Carmilla combed soft fingers through straight, smooth hair, pulling it back from Laura's face.  Her heart jumped when a smile quirked the corner of the sleeping girl's mouth.

Just to see it again Carmilla repeated the gesture.  It lingered this time, Laura rocking back against her and peeking up.  “Are you just going to watch me sleep?  You're supposed to be sleeping.”

Burrowing her nose through soft lengths of honey hair, Carmilla only drew in a breath.  It was the pillow she's been stealing all semester but amplified.  She wanted this scent all over her.  For the two of them to be indistinguishable from the other.

Laura grumbled tiredly when she nuzzled deeper, lips dragging behind her ear.  “Stop  _ smelling _ me.”  Carmilla's response was another breath, mouth puckering to taste soft skin.  “Fine, but no hickey,” Laura submitted, her voice a pleased hum in spite of her objections.  Carmilla's chest rumbled against her back as she purred, her eyes falling closed again with her face nuzzled into her lover's neck.


	40. January 2, 2015 - The Alps - Post Christmas Special

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to let y'all know with season 3 right around the corner - we've written our own plot for the aftermath of season 2 and will be deviating from canon after the season 2 finale.

Laura was  _ right there _ . Close enough to grab and pull safely behind herself. If not for the cold stone wall Carmilla's girlfriend was currently trapped inside. Not that Laura appeared at all bothered by the fact that she was sealed inside stone. Was she  _ dancing _ ? Gods, she was lucky she was so fucking cute. As long as she didn't get stumped and end up engaged to the creepy little troll that had her captive in their little game.

Carmilla forced herself to breathe. Laura would be fine. She had seen  _ The Hobbit. _ Hell, she'd even read it. She would get through this just fine. No matter how many little imps Carmilla had to rip apart with her teeth. Not taking her eyes off her girlfriend, Carmilla paced in front of the wall.

Laura was frowning beyond the stone, her arms across her chest. The kobold, hunched and dirty, wrung their hands. Both were speaking at intervals but even Carmilla's enhanced senses couldn't pick out what they were saying.

Her instinct was to tear the wall apart with her hands. Maybe even let LaFontaine blow a hole in it to get her in there. But Laura was  _ in _ the stone. Facing a sneaky little gnome who wouldn't hesitate to kill her if they felt like it. There was nothing she could do, not if the risk was hurting Laura.

It was frustrating in a way that even the constant intimacy interruptions by Perry and LaFontaine weren't. Able to see her in danger but utterly powerless to do anything.

“Oh dear.” Perry's quiet exclamation turned Carmilla's head. The other girl's airy curls were all she could see right off, Perry swinging a worried gaze between Laura's captive form and LaFontaine wandering the cave and muttering.

Carmilla might be powerless and more or less clueless – kobolds weren't her area – any kind of supernatural creature that wasn't a vampire wasn't really her area – but Perry wasn't. It had been years since she'd let herself remember their encounter in the library's basement three years earlier. She knew it was the same for Perry. The flush of embarrassment was already moving up her neck, the last remnant of blood left in her body rising to heat her face.

“Perry.” Pale blue eyes found her. “Help me get to her? You've got to know something that can help her.” The realization flashed across her face in bits and pieces – lip dropping open, tiny lines tightening around the corners of her eyes, the swift intake of breath that Perry couldn't stop herself from taking. Her eyes dropped when Carmilla reached across the space to cover her hands. “I know what I said to you in that room and I'm sorry, okay? You'll never know how sorry I was – I  _ am _ , to have had to say that stuff to you. My mother was watching and it was the only way I could think of to protect you.”  The Dean could never know what any of her humans meant to her.  Carmilla couldn't bring herself to admit it even now. Her mother was dead and gone. They were finally all safe from her – after lifetimes.

But if she told Perry everything they'd been to each other – how many decades their friendship had spanned, the highs and lows they'd seen each other through – Lola would never believe her. They were safe and she still couldn't tell her friends the truth.

All she could do was apologize and mean it.

“Perry, I am sorry.” Carmilla didn't blink, met her gaze with a steady intensity that made Perry chew on her bottom lip. “Believe that. I'm sorry. And I know that you can help me. I believe you know something that can help Laura if you don't want to help me. Help her,” Carmilla said earnestly, leaning her head at the wall in a leading prompt. “She's your friend. You can help her.” Perry's mouth moved but she only nodded without speaking. Her eyes were wide when Carmilla darted forward to kiss her cheek. “Thank you.”

Trying to be merciful, Carmilla backed up to let her think, to give her space. “Kobolds, if it is a kobold, they're a type of trickster. They typically are found in caves or mines, which is what differentiates them from house spirits and water spirits.” Carmilla wanted to press her for more – for weaknesses and a plan of attack – but kept her mouth shut. “They can be nasty when they're slighted or don't get what they want.” Carmilla's gaze was back on the wall, watching Laura deal with the little imp on her own. “But typically they're said to be as good as their word when they're treated respectfully.” One hand reached up, as if she were going to touch Carmilla's shoulder comfortingly but she hesitated without making contact, putting her hand back down again. “Laura can do this. You know that,” she whispered instead.

“Give me a way to help her,” Carmilla said in reply, crossing her arms.

Perry sighed, distracted by LaFontaine somehow creating sparks. “Give me a moment to think, both of you.” She rushed to stomp out the flames. “How did you even -?!”

Carmilla grinned in spite of herself at LaFontaine's sheepish grin, their eyebrows still growing back in after their last spontaneous combustion incident. Her hand was on the wall, the cool stone reassuring despite no way to get through it.

Laura was laughing and dancing beyond the barrier, twirling through stone with the kobold, and Carmilla breathed, watching it. She dropped her eyes when soft fingers brushed her arm, Perry beside her again. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For what you said.”

Swallowing down the lump of sudden emotion that lodged itself in her throat, Carmilla nodded. “Yeah,” she said hoarsely.

“It seems like Laura has things well in hand,” Perry noted almost smugly.

Carmilla grumbled and it was only partially for show. “There's a hobgoblin with their hands on my girlfriend.” Their height differences made it easy for the imp's hands to wander to certain parts that Carmilla knew first hand were very nice to touch. Her growl wasn't faked, fist pounding on the wall even as Laura twitched away from the roaming hands, grinning and giggling.

“She's fine,” Perry pointed out, holding onto her arm in an attempt to keep her in place rather than a comforting gesture. “She's got things under control.”

The kobold grinned toothily at her on their next turn and the mountain rumbled around them. “This is bullshit, you coward!” Carmilla yelled, hitting the wall again. Perry shoved her back with both hands on her chest and Carmilla let herself be moved. She even let her head be jerked down, Perry staring into her face.

“She is fine until you get us crushed in an avalanche!” Perry stated, raising her voice to be heard over the rumble of stone around them.

“You guys -” LaFontaine said, rushing forward to catch Perry's arm.

They all turned at the distinct knock that echoed through the wall, the cavern silent and still in an instant. Laura was grinning beyond the stone, talking and gesturing excitedly. Then they could hear her and she was there, her face pressed into Carmilla's shoulder as the vampire pulled her into a tight hug, turning them so that her body was between Laura and the scowling gnome.

“You can get that look off your face, you unpleasant creature,” they grumbled, glaring at Carmilla. “Your sweet isn't in any danger from me.”

“We made a deal,” Laura chimed in happily. Her arm was around Carmilla's waist under her jacket, the other pressed flat to the vampire's stomach, making circles against her shirt. “They're going to help us get out of here!”

Gaping, Carmilla's eyes swung between her girlfriend and the smirking imp. Only Laura Hollis could make friends with a trickster who'd trapped her inside stone. It was enough to make her eyes roll. Her heart swelled in her chest though. Laura saw good where there was none. The girl loved her, after all.

“Unless you want to stay?” they tried one more time, bobbing the gnarls on their face that could be eyebrows. “I'll be good to you, I swear. You will want for nothing as long as you live.”

Laura leaned into Carmilla, resting her head on the vampire's chest. It was all that kept her from lunging forward to tear them apart. “You're sweet, but I'm not interested.”

They sighed. “Very well.” They reached up one hand, planting a kiss on Laura's when she snaked her arm out of Carmilla's hold to offer it. “If you're sure.”

Laura nodded, smiling. “We're ready to go, yes.” Giggling, she waved goodbye as everything twisted around them.

“Wait, where -?“ That was all that Carmilla managed to say before they were engulfed in a shimmer of shadow and light, a show of flashes and shade that dissolved into white noise and blindness then returned to forms and sensations – crisp winter wind and frosted grass beneath their hands. The muggy dark of the cave had become brisk iciness that took their breaths away.

The ice under her knees melted but couldn't penetrate the black leather of her pants, Carmilla sure of where they were without looking around. Her whole life she'd struggled to be free of this place. She knew it intimately and some tiny dark part inside of her feared it even more intimately.

Silas.

They were back.

“What did you do?” she gasped, still covering Laura protectively until realization sunk in that all she was doing was holding her girlfriend to the frozen earth. Both hands helped her up, LaFontaine guiding Perry to her feet only a yard away.

“I got us out of the mountains and away from those villagers,” said Laura brightly, hands tucked beneath her arms and shivering.

Carmilla guided her inside her own jacket, rubbing her back and her arms with her own hands. “And back to Silas.”

“We couldn't just show up at my house with a kobold,” Laura explained, teeth starting to chatter when the wind whipped at them. “It was the first place I thought of.”

Holding her tighter, Carmilla's chin came to rest on Laura's shoulder. “It's going to be okay,” she promised. “Let's get you inside.”

“Where?” LaFontaine asked, their arm curled through Perry's. They were huddled, both starting to shake.

The campus was still in ruins, no matter that it had been weeks since the Dean's death. That was probably one of the principal causes of the disarray. Maman had never appreciated a mess. She'd hate this. Never would have stood for it. All the fighting for whatever was left of her mother's power made this place a powder keg, before even bringing the juiced up monster fish living in a crater in the middle of campus into the equation. Which meant there was maybe one place left on this wretched country where she could protect Laura and the others.

“I know somewhere,” Carmilla said, appreciating not a bit the dramatic rumble of thunder that backed up her statement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ps - kobolds are non-binary - i don't make the rules


	41. January 12, 2015 - Season 2, Episode 10

LaFontaine startled awake.  Their skin was damp with sweat and they clamped their thighs together, trying to ignore the throb of arousal.  The dream had felt so real.  Perry, in some outfit straight from one of Laura’s  _ Agent Carter _ episodes, stalking towards them, shedding items of clothing as she approached, before straddling their thighs and pulling them into a deep kiss.

They flushed.  Deny it as they had for years, or finally accept that they were in love with their best friend?  And lusted for her not a little?  Shaking their head, LaFontaine slipped from the huge bed they shared with Perry and crept into the adjacent bath for a glass of water.

They glanced back into the opulent bedroom.  Perry was curled up on her side, almost on the edge of the bed and facing outwards.  It was strange.  Ever since  they were both kids, they’d slept curled up together in the center of any space they shared – a zillion sleepovers and camping trips found them puppy-piling together.  Even at Silas, where they had shared a dorm room until Perry became floor don, they’d shared the narrow twin bed wherever they ended up at night.  But since coming back to Silas, Perry had slept curled in on herself, never touching them at all.  And her screaming nightmares were getting more frequent.

As they watched from the doorway Perry let out the softest sound – the start of a whimper, scream, or sigh, they weren't sure - and LaFontaine set down their glass on the bathroom counter to return to the bed.  Perry didn't wake as LaFontaine pulled the blanket up across her shoulders, only turned her face into the pillow and breathed.  Some of the tension at the corners of her eyes smoothed away from her face as LaFontaine watched and they were helpless.  Perry's hair was loose and wild, smooth as silk between their fingers.

In spite of the water still fresh in their stomach, LaFontaine's throat went dry at the sound of the moan that slipped between Perry's lips.  "La -"  It was a sigh, a fragment of sound, possibly anything other than their name.  The dry throat had spread and LaFontaine swallowed almost compulsively as they stepped back from the bed, hand hovering over the curly strands of Perry's hair.  She settled again and LaFontaine let out their own deep breath.

It was definitely time for another drink.  Arriving in the giant kitchen moments later, LaFontaine only wanted a warm milk and a bit of solitude to think.  Or maybe some rum.  Vodka?  Vodka in milk?  No, that was a horrible idea.  Hot toddy?  Their mind whirled with the options available.  For all she was evil and a vampire, the Dean had a well-stocked kitchen, an even better-stocked liquor cabinet, and as long as you avoided the walk-in freezer with manacles, the creepy was easy to avoid.  

Except, when LaFontaine looked around, they weren’t the only one up in the wee hours of the morning.  Carmilla was leaning against the counter, watching the electric kettle intently.  A mug and coffee press were set nearby.  Dark eyes flicked up at them when they entered the room.  Without a word, the vampire took out a second mug from the cabinet.  She put a tea bag in and as the electric kettle boiled, split the hot water between the mug and the coffee press.  As the coffee brewed, she added a generous dollop of honey and two fingers of whisky to the tea before handing it to them.  Curious, LaFontaine sipped the mug and sighed happily.

“Thank you, this is perfect,” they said, sitting down at the nearby table as Carmilla added sugar and cream to her coffee.

“You’re welcome,” came the polite, if tired, reply.  Sprawling in her chair across from LaFontaine, Carmilla took a first, big gulp of her coffee.  They sat together in contented silence for awhile, each sipping from their drinks, before Carmilla asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

LaFontaine startled, trapped in their own thoughts, reliving moments of their dream.  “What?”

Carmilla tapped her nose with a small knowing grin.  

They turned bright red, well aware of the slick between their legs.  They hadn’t thought it was noticeable to anyone else, but they also hadn’t expected a vampire in the kitchen at three a.m.  Though given where they were, they probably should have.  They ran a hand over their face, and took a deep draught.  The whisky burned almost as much as the hot tea.  

Carmilla sighed, “It’s not like anyone doesn’t know how hung up on Suzie Homemaker you are.”

Scratching the back of their neck, LaFontaine asked sheepishly, “It’s that obvious, huh?”  

The look that crossed Carmilla’s face was almost soft, the kindness she usually only showed Laura on full display.  “To those of us who’ve been around the block a few hundred times, it’s like a neon sign on the new moon.  Blinding.”

“Fat lot of good it does me,” they grumbled.

“If you don’t actually say anything to her, that’s accurate.”  Carmilla studied the contents of her mug, and rose to pour a second cup of coffee.  “Because I doubt she’ll admit it first.”  She sat down and sipped from her drink, then studied the mug in her hands for a long moment before setting it down.  LaFontaine’s jaw had dropped, and they were staring at her.  She sighed.  “I used to have these friends.  You and Curly remind me of them.  Every time they looked at one another, it was like they were seeing the sun and moon for the first time.”

LaFontaine drank the last of their tea, and coughed at the bite of the whisky.  “She doesn’t even touch me anymore,” they said, considering the past few months.

Carmilla nodded sadly, “Things have been rough.  We’re all a little traumatized.”

The laugh that forced their way out was bitter.  “Trauma?  Yeah.  Where am I gonna find a shrink that’ll believe me about vampires, ancient demigods  _ and _ nonbinary genders?  Let alone one I can drag Perr to?”

“I don’t know.  Therapy is a pretty modern concept.  And for most of it, even being gay was a pathology.  So I haven’t tried.”

“A vampire in therapy.  Sounds like the start of a joke.  All that mayhem get to you before this mess?”

It hurt.  Mostly that LaFontaine didn’t remember what they had known before.  This version of her friend was so  _ young _ .  Younger than they had been when they met in Amsterdam, if only by a few years.  “Maybe the decades I spent buried in a coffin full of blood, because I tried to save one of my mother’s victims, messed with my head a little.”

At least they looked abashed when what she said parsed through their foggy mind.  “Carmilla…”

“Being a vampire requires  _ dying _ ,” she pointed out softly, without rancor.  If a little sharing could build a bond with her friend, she’d bare the darkest parts of her heart and history to LaFontaine.  “And it’s not something you forget.  I woke up,” she bit her tongue.  What had happened in Vordenburg’s dungeon was not something she wanted to talk about, to anyone.  Even Mattie knowing what she did…  “I woke up and it was not pleasant.  There’s no romance to it, no matter what the novels say.  You’re dead, and then you’re not, but you’re not alive either.  Your humanity, in a very basic way, is stripped from you violently.”  They looked like they were almost ready to cry on her behalf.  She took a deep, unnecessary breath.  “I’m still myself.  Mostly.  Maybe,” she shrugged.  “It’s been three hundred years.  Just that has changed me, I suppose.”

They looked around the kitchen with its sleek modern appliances.  “How old was your mother?  I mean, this is a pretty fancy setup.”

She shrugged, “Old.  Very old.  More than a millennium at least.  She raised Mattie when she was still very young, and it’s usually something only older vampires do.  Ones that have more than a few hundred years on them.  But I don’t think Mattie even knows how old  _ she _ is, let alone how old Maman was.  Different calendars, different cultures, time going by and by and by.”

LaFontaine’s eyes widened at the thought of all that time, “Are  _ you _ even old enough to raise a vampire?”

Carmilla froze for a second, thinking of Lill.  She nodded, hesitant, “Just barely.”  She really had been too young to raise her lover, forty years ago, but she would have done it anyways.  “It’s not a… a power or age thing.  It’s about maturity.  Experience.  Being solid enough in your own body to go through the process of pulling someone else back from the dead.  And there are always risks.”  The scientist in their friend shone through, fascination obvious.  But it was a dangerous thing to discuss with a mortal.  Especially one as curious as LaFontaine.  “It’s never something to undertake lightly,” she warned softly.

“You’ve thought about it,” they replied, sitting back and staring at her.

“Yes,” she replied simply.  Explaining about Lill and Laura and even their own reincarnation wasn’t something she was willing to broach with them, not yet.  Not quite.

LaFontaine rose from their chair and gently set their empty mug in the sink.  They stopped by her side, one hand hesitantly reaching out to squeeze her shoulder.  “If you want to talk about it, I’ll listen.  Thank you, Carmilla.”  They were gone from the kitchen quickly, heading back to bed.

She buried her face in her hands, unsure if she’d made a breakthrough or a huge mistake.


	42. January 18, 2015 - Season 2, Episode 12

“Hey, what are you doing all the way over there?” Laura's question made Carmilla look up from her book, as if she hadn't been intermittently watching the back of her girlfriend's head for the last two hours. “Wanna come cuddle and see if Olivia's going to run away with Jake this season?” The cuddling sounded nice but the rest of it was a pass.

“No. But you can come over here,” she offered, smiling when Laura grinned, already turning to rise from her seat. Then she was there and snuggling into Carmilla's side, impatiently waiting for the vampire to lift her arm and give her full access to her space. Laura swooped under to nuzzle her head into the Carmilla's shoulder. She made herself comfortable, Carmilla reaching up to stroke fingers through her hair. It felt like silk and cool to the touch. Her eyes drifted back to her book but only because there was no way to see Laura's face with it tucked against her neck.

Laura sighed, the breath making Carmilla's skin prickle with sensation. “I don't know how you can be so calm. Knowing that Mattie and Vordenberg are out there getting ready to do something awful.” Still stroking her hair, Carmilla's mouth only quirked. Whatever Mattie had in mind, she would protect her people from it. Her sister wasn't the wild card Laura wanted her to be. She'd do whatever needed to be done and get out of Styria as fast as she could. No, Vordenberg was the one they couldn't trust. There was no good way to explain that to Laura without bringing up a lot of things she'd rather never speak of.

Carmilla knew the story that the family had presented after... everything. Mattie had told her, eventually. It hadn't been the best way to meet her new sister, after all that had happened to inaugurate her into her new immortal family. Mattie had left the tale for once they'd come to know each other a bit better than strangers. She'd even more eventually told Mattie, and only Mattie, what had really happened in that house.

Laura's heroic notions of her would be shattered once and for all if she learned everything she'd done that night. Of course, with the current Baron on his way to Silas his family's version of events would more than likely come to light. Speaking first would give Carmilla a chance to let Laura decide for herself who to believe.

Carmilla didn't open her mouth, choking the words down instead. She did her best to never think about that last party of her human life. Parts of it had faded from memory to be only shades of dreams. Her human life had all slipped beyond her grasp over the centuries. After the party had ended in spraying blood and blackness her life had begun again. It was the hours, days between death and undeath that stopped her words. Mattie had never minced her accusations – necrophilia – but there seemed to Carmilla to be little point in dwelling on the rather distinct possibilities when she'd killed everyone in the house herself. Whatever revenges there were to take, she'd taken them from the people who'd killed her and desecrated her body.

“Hey.” Laura leaned up to push Carmilla's dark hair back herself, trying to see her face. “You okay?” She leaned in again when Carmilla's hand moved down her back, her own touch falling to the vampire's shoulder, knee curling over Carmilla's thigh.

It took Carmilla a half second too long to answer, shaking her head without lifting her eyes from her book. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

She let it hang, hoping for more. “Because you sound broody,” Laura noted when nothing came, trying to lighten whatever dark mood had fallen over her girlfriend.

Carmilla's head shook in fractions of movement. “I'm just thinking about things.”

Trying to discern what exactly had cast a pallor over the previously brilliant smile she'd gotten, Laura sat up and looked at Carmilla's book for herself. “Those who prefer their principles over their happiness, they refuse to be happy outside of the conditions they seem to have attached to their happiness,” she read aloud. Carmilla looked at her finally, Laura's eyes still on the text. “Sounds light and frothy,” she tried, her weak chuckle only the sound of breath.

She looked up and Carmilla caught her eyes. “It's comforting.” She inhaled, let it out slowly. “He understands that love doesn't mean the same thing to everyone.” Her love for this girl had meant so many things for so long. Over time she'd come to understand Lorelei's love, and Laurel's, Lill's, even scared little Ell's, after agonizing over it for nearly a century. Laura's love for her for a mystery still, something she was still learning to grasp.

“I think that's the saddest thing I've ever heard.” Her head leaned into Carmilla's touch, the fingers moving through her hair.

Staring into her face, Carmilla felt her heart seize and twist. Laura had so much life left to live, so many things to do and learn. Every day they stayed at Silas, the deeper she dug into whatever was left here of the Dean's machinations, the more the life Laura deserved slipped away from her. She already knew Laura better than that though. She would never walk away to save herself. No matter what it cost her.

“Hey Laura.” If she sounded sad it was because she already knew the answer to her question.

“Yeah?” Laura's head fell against her shoulder and Carmilla wondered if she could already guess what she was going to say.

“Can we just pretend, just for tonight, that if I asked we'd run away?” They breathed together to fill the silence. “We'd find some way to leave and we'd just go? Somewhere without murders or sisters. We'd sleep in hotel rooms.” Laura sighed and cuddled into her. “Never live in the same city twice.” Laura's hand abandoned the edge of her book's pages to slip over her middle, seeking Carmilla's left hand while her right was sliding down Laura's back toward her hip. Carmilla let her head fall back against the cushion of the settee, Laura nuzzling into her neck. “There'd be no one to fail or disappoint or save. It would just be,” she breathed, holding it, “you and me in love.”

It sounded simple spoken aloud but it was the life she wanted more than any other. It was the life that had somehow never felt further from her grasp, even while Laura rested comfortably against her side, safe in her arms.

Laura picked her head up and Carmilla was already leaning down to meet her mouth. “That would be nice, wouldn't it?” she asked into the space before their kiss.

“Mhmm,” Carmilla murmured, nodding without surrendering even a fraction of space she'd need to make words. Not if it meant the end of this moment. When she leaned back, Laura was the one to connect the kiss again, reaching up to pull Carmilla back to her. This kiss was as slow and gentle as the first but deeper, Laura dropping her lip to let Carmilla in briefly and gripping black hair to keep her close.

Then Laura leaned back and their eyes opened, her thumb rubbing circles against the vampire's jawline. “But our friends need us.” Her hand slipped down the length of dark curls, winding them through her fingers. “The school needs us.” She breathed out, trying to make herself understood. “Maybe we could be happy that way but you know we wouldn't even be you and me anymore.” Her touch fell back to Carmilla's middle, palm sliding flat against her shirt. “We'd just be these empty shells who ran away.”

Carmilla shifted her book in her lap without speaking and Laura resettled herself against her side. If they weren't in Austria, weren't on the god-forsaken Silas campus, then she could imagine that she'd be able to keep reading her book, that Laura would doze off on her chest. They were at Silas though. She wasn't reading and Laura wasn't sleeping, lying instead in silence that felt more tense by the moment.

Closing her book slowly, Carmilla pushed it aside. She leaned her head over to rest against Laura's hair and heard her girlfriend's breath come easier. “Do you want to go to sleep?” Carmilla kept her voice low, quiet as if she was trying not to startle her. “Laura, I -” she stated again when no answer came.

Laura rose up, pressing down against Carmilla's middle with her hand to get her to her mouth that much faster. The kiss was deep, fast, and hard, with the taste of desperation pushed between their tongues.

Carmilla slowed her down deliberately, pressing Laura back into the lounge and quieting her whimpers and soft noises for more. “I've got you. I'm here. It's going to be okay,” she promised between kisses, their foreheads pressed together, both breathing hard.

“Take me to bed,” Laura answered, hand on her neck pulling Carmilla back to her. One knee curled over her vampire's hip and Carmilla only reached back to coax it more firmly around her. Her hands were on Laura's back, the back of her head, and they were moving inhumanely fast. Then there was the cool shadows of their bedroom, the soft sheets of their bed. Finally, whispered promises against skin and hands that clung just  _ that _ much tighter.


	43. January 22, 2015 - Season 2, Episode 13

With their dorm – and therefore almost all their belongings – at the bottom of a crater, and everything they currently own either what they brought while fleeing Silas or what has been acquired since their return to campus, there wasn’t much to pack.  Pack.  More like carry across the hall to another ostentatious, oversized bedroom with an en suite.

A noise from the hall caught their attention.  Perry was who knows where.  Avoiding them.  Or something.  Instead, it was Carmilla lounging against the doorframe.

“Moving?” she inquired in a careless way.  But LaF was, almost, learning to read through that.  Sometimes.  Sometimes Carmilla looked at them like they were incredibly precious.  And sometimes she looked at them with the most detached look that nearly bordered into disdain.  It was frustrating.  It had no explanation, and LaFontaine hated that.

They nodded instead, answering, “I… Perry isn’t sleeping well.”

It had been days since Carmilla made them tea-and-whisky in the middle of the night.  Perry woke up screaming most of them.  Carmilla made a face.  “I’ve noticed.”

“She hasn’t always been like this,” they muttered.  “I told Laura she’s always been like this.  But she hasn’t.  Silas.  Something happened our freshman year.”  They stared at their little pile of clothes, missing the guilt that flashed across Carmilla’s face.  “I’ve just.  I’ve rewrote our history.  Like she’s always been this uptight.  Because it was easier to forget than to think she’s so different now.  Silas was weird enough before my best friend,” they sobbed, once, before continuing, “got a complete personality transplant.  I mean she was a little uptight as a kid but once we hit middle school and she got into the whole… magic mystical carpet ride thing…”

“What happened in middle school?” came Carmilla’s question, tone almost disinterested.

They shrugged.  “She had this series of dreams.  Over almost a year.  Horrible, some of them.  Others weren’t.  She started reading psychology books to try to explain them all and when that didn’t work she turned to parapsychology and dream interpretations and mythology and mystical stuff.  I thought she was nuts.  I mean, science is concrete.  Magic isn’t.”

“There are more things in heaven and earth…” Carmilla quoted softly.

LaFontaine nodded.  “But then I got  _ here _ .  Suddenly all the weird stuff she’d been talking about for years was  _ real _ and she just… refused to see it.”

“I’ve often wondered how Silas students reconcile all the weird stuff here with what they  _ think _ reality is, and then go back out into the mundane world after four years.  You know, if they survive,” Carmilla mused.

“Denial, binge-drinking, compartmentalizing…”  LaFontaine shook their head.  “And a lot don’t go back into the mundane world.  My advisor gave me a pep talk about all the places I could work with a Silas biology degree and I’m pretty sure most of them are not companies you could find mentioned in the Wall Street Journal.”

“Mother did have quite the wide range of businesses to staff,” Carmilla mused.

They snorted.  “The Dean?  A respectable business magnate?”

“Well… not respectable.”  Carmilla smirked right back at them.  “But keeping yourself in blood and books is hard when you can’t be outside during daylight hours.  At least until you’re older.”

“You?”

She shrugged.  “A few.  Nothing much.”  A flash of the inside of  _ Lorelei’s _ in her mind’s eye sobered Carmilla instantly.

They stared, realizing the minefield they had blundered into.  “Well, if you’re a financially stable vampire, you can fund my graduate research then,” they joked.

Carmilla gave them a soft, shy smile.  “Of course I will.”  She straightened up, then smirked half-heartedly before turning to leave.

“I’ll hold you to that!” they called out as she wandered down the hall.  LaFontaine stared at their pile of clothes.  All collected by Carmilla in the early days of their return to Silas, all things that fit and more importantly  _ fit _ , as if Carmilla was the perfect fashion consultant.  They snorted at the idea before gathering everything up in their arms and stalking across the hall to dump the pile on their new bed.  That they’d sleep in without Perry for the first time in years.

They fought down the lump in their throat and stalked downstairs to the basement.  Next to an arcane workroom that Perry would have loved, years ago, was what had probably been some kind of torture chamber at some point, but was currently their makeshift lab.  Locking the door behind them, they glanced at the computer screen.

_ Good afternoon, LaFontaine _ , JP typed.

“Hey, JP.  Ready to get a body?” they asked wearily, letting the drive for science fill them as they looked around.  Will’s corpse was secured on a very handy stone slab, leather and (likely enchanted) metal restraints holding it.

They didn’t notice the reply, wherein JP asked,  _ Have you told Miss Perry yet? _  Instead, they moved to their final preparation checklist before trying to revive the corpse and transfer JP’s consciousness into it.  Did a vampire’s corpse count as a corpse or was it a new form of corpse?  Did it revert to merely human after a second “death?”  Their equipment, mostly pilfered from the campus labs, couldn’t tell them for sure.  They’d hauled the corpse to the CAT scan machine, and the MRI lab, and found nothing that science could detect.  Yet.  Would their disembodied friend wake up human once more or a vampire?  

LaFontaine found the intersection of science with the popularly termed “magic” they found so common at Silas to be fascinating.  It was a whole new field to them, and worth so much investigation.

They swallowed down the thought, the vague hope, that if they could explain it to her, that they’d get  _ their _ Perry back.  The woman who’d dragged them to Silas in the first place.  The woman they’d fallen in love with.  They crushed that thought.   _ Any _ Perry was the Perry they loved.  Even if they couldn’t say it out loud.  Not yet.

Checklist complete, they loaded JP into the buffering computer and started the process of turning a vampire corpse into a 19 th century library clerk.  It wasn’t quite the Victor Frankenstein moment they had pictured in their mind, but it was a start.

In a moment of levity, they let out their best evil cackle as they threw the final switch.


	44. March 15, 2015 - Season 2, Episode 16

**** Alcohol helped. It made Carmilla's head spin the way her heart felt like it was tumbling. Like her whole world was spinning. She'd broken up with Laura. Left her. After everything she'd done to save her, over and over, they just couldn't make this work. All the ways these things had gone wrong in the last century Carmilla had never expected that perhaps she and Laura just weren't compatible.

Even in leaving her Carmilla couldn't just walk away. No, she had to stubbornly insist on continuing to save her life. Mattie would end it in a moment at the slightest signal from her sister but the smallest nod kept her firmly in place as well. Laura's happiness was no longer part of the deal though. In fact, Carmilla was more than willing to allow her ex to share in her own misery while Matska gleefully engaged.

The apartment once owned by their mother was the staging area for the broken couple's domestic showdowns, Carmilla and Mattie remaining on their side of the demarcated zones but doing everything to make sure a certain human's attention stayed on them. Without it looking like that's what they were trying to do.

“Here, kitty.” Mattie passed her a fresh martini glass of blood. The stem was delicate, the piece from their mother's private collection. Carmilla was already drunk enough that only taking it from her sister nearly snapped the base off. “Carefully,” coaxed Mattie under her breath. “Even your little human isn't going to swoon over a sloppy drunk.”

“Like you care,” Carmilla grumbled back. Laura's shoulders were hunched where she leaned too close to her computer screen and the vampire made no effort to clean herself up. She jerked when Mattie's sharp nails found her wrist and squeezed.

“You are the only thing in this festering pit of a country that I  _ do _ care for,” Mattie stated firmly, her tone sharp. “You'd do well not to forget it.” She sniffed, retaking her seat on the couch. A sip from her own glass gave Carmilla time to be rebuked. Mattie sighed when she spotted Carmilla's eyes drift back to the back of Laura's head, the scorned vampire wilting. “She doesn't deserve you,” Mattie declared, not lowering her voice. She wanted all parties involved to know of her disapproval.

“You know nothing about her,” snapped Carmilla, heated and glaring in an instant. It was the most passion she'd shown in days.

Mattie only leaned back into the plush couch, legs curled up beneath her. “Explain her to me, then. What is it about this one?”

Carmilla sighed, mouth moving. She didn't speak, unable to even know where to begin. Instead she drained her glass, leaning her head back to pour the last few drops down her throat. A drip broke free from the corner of her mouth and rolled down to crest her jawline and slip down the column of her throat. Carmilla did nothing to stop it staining her shirt collar when she brought her head back down to meet her sister's challenging stare.

Mattie didn't speak, arching a brow and waiting, merely sipping demurely at her own drink.

“She's... everything,” Carmilla sighed finally, drawing in and releasing a breath she didn't need. “I don't know what to tell you.”

Lips pursing, Mattie shook her head. “She certainly has some luck, having killed mother. I'll give her that much. Beyond that, though -”

“She's naive, stubborn, idealistic, opinionated -”

“About things she doesn't know enough of to have any ideas at all,” Mattie stated, sneering. “You've known her -”

“Forever,” sighed Carmilla, risking a look across the room. Laura was pouring cookie crumbs straight from the tray into her mouth and Carmilla had to catch the smile that wanted to pull at her mouth.

Blinking, Mattie put it together. “Oh, not this again. You cannot think that it's the same girl  _ again _ .” Carmilla didn't argue, only rolled the residue of her drink around the sloped sides of her glass before unsteadily reaching for the decanter on the table. “I wish you wouldn't keep subjecting yourself to relationships with humans but the idea that they're all the same girl, over and over -” Her head shook from side to side, dark eyes watching her sister refill her own glass. It was too full but she crassly licked the runoff from the side with her tongue, sucked the remainder from the web between her finger and thumb. “You're going to live for an eternity, you know. You're allowed to love more than one person.”

“It's not like that,” objected Carmilla, voice slurring.

Mattie crossed her arms, leaning back in her seat. “Then what is it?”

“They're different people. In some ways. And in other ways it's the same every time and I feel like I've known her longer than anyone.” Arched eyebrows conveyed only doubt and Carmilla's clouded mind struggled to express herself more clearly. “First of all, you know I've seen other people -”

Scoffing, Mattie answered, “I've never in your life seen you like  _ this _ , kitty cat.”

“You met Lorelei,” Carmilla said suddenly and the look on her face made it clear that it wasn't what she'd expected to come out of her mouth. “You thought she was a snack.” Mattie's head inclined but she didn't say anything. One finger gently traced the top of her glass, making it sing. “We were together for three and a half years.” Her breath was heavy and hard; it sunk to the floor in between them. “I remember every single day I had with her. All of them. I loved her – like I had never loved anyone before.” Her smile was sweet and sad, her eyes trailing restlessly across the room without settling anywhere. “There were always a few little things she did that reminded me of Ell,” Mattie grimaced at the name but remained silent, only huffed through her nose, “but Lorelei was something else entirely. Passionate and fearless, smart and funny.” She smiled at the floor, the look on her face intense and private. “She deserved the world and I would have done anything to give it to her.” The expression didn't fade as she continued. “When she got sick I would have turned her in an instant. She didn't want it.”

“Fool -”

“She died sure that we would find each other again,” Carmilla continued over her sister's bark.

Mattie wouldn't let herself be talked over. “So now you see that poor girl in everyone you've let yourself feel for since. But Mircalla-”

“That's not it,” she said patiently. “It's  _ her _ .” She cocked her head and took a sip from her glass. Her smirk was tinged with red. “You're a thousand year old vampire but you can't believe in reincarnation?”

Mattie sighed, fingers drumming against her curled leg. “So this girl is  _ her _ ? Again. Because the two of you are destined to be together. Kitten -”

“We're not always together. Laurel was... my best friend. She had a girlfriend when I met her though.”

“Another human? Easily dealt with,” Mattie declared, waving it off.

Carmilla let her hair fall forward when she shook her head. “We're supposed to be in each others lives. That's all I know.”

“So I don't get to kill this one because you think you might have a chance to be  _ friends _ ?”

Carmilla stared at the ornate pattern of the rug without speaking for a long moment. She couldn't be friends with Laura. She hadn't killed her mother,  _ finally _ , for Laura's friendship. She'd done everything for her because the passion she felt for this tiny, stupid, selfish girl eclipsed everything else. The way it always had.

“I love her, Mattie.”

Her sister's sigh drew Carmilla's gaze up from the carpet. “I know, dear heart.” She took her final sip and set her glass carefully aside, standing up gracefully. “We're not going to let her see you mope,” she instructed archly, offering a hand to her sister. “Though if you would do your best not to step on my feet I would feel more obliging about not killing the little reporter.” She only smiled when Carmilla glared up at her. “I'll let your run off with the next one with my blessing.”

“No deal,” Carmilla grumbled, unsteady on her feet.

Mattie caught her, two fingers rising to push her hair back from her face. “I wish you could find someone who didn't cost you so much,” she said softly, sadly, as they started to dance.

Carmilla's head shook, her eyes unfocused and hazy. They slipped over Mattie's shoulder toward the other side of the apartment and Mattie turned them deliberately. “I only want her.”

Struck by her sister's sadness, Mattie caught her face with both hands, kissing her gently on the forehead before her hands fell back into their places for the dance. “Well then, convince me she's worthy of you, my monster.”

“Do you remember talking about this?” asked Carmilla instead. “In Sweden – you showed up for dinner -”

“William killed that one, didn't he?” Carmilla blinked, her mouth falling open. “Your – Perry told me when she reached out after,” Mattie explained briefly, shoulders rising and falling in a short shrug. “She was worried when you ran off like you did.” Carmilla's head dropped but her sister guided it back up again with a knuckle beneath her chin.

“You talked to Perry -?” Her whisper was choked. She told herself it was her imagination that she could suddenly discern the current Perry's pace on the floor above their heads. “You never told me that.”

Mattie's lips pursed as she guided them through a turn. “You weren't quite yourself for a few decades, as I recall,” she rebuked her gently. “Now, I wasn't there then, but I won't stand for that here, you understand?” She chucked Carmilla lightly under the chin again, smiling too widely. “The key is not to let them see you down,” she whispered, kinder with her sister than she was with anyone else.

Carmilla smiled in spite of herself. “What would you know about it? You haven't had a boyfriend since -”

“Oh, don't you  _ dare _ !” Mattie yelped, pinching her sister's side lightning quick. “At least I didn't have to concoct some elaborate, world altering theory about reincarnation to get over him!”

It was teasing and light, exactly what Carmilla needed to throw her head back and laugh, free in that moment. Whatever difficulties they faced from Vordenberg, Corvae, Silas, and Laura would wait until the morning. She told herself it didn't matter that she could feel Laura's eyes tracking her around the room. They were being loud. If she'd heard anything what did it matter, anyway? Laura had proven that she wasn't exactly inclined toward changing her mind.

More laughter covered the clicking of keys as Laura started a new search thread for a single word.

_ Reincarnation. _


	45. April 2, 2015 - Season 2, Episode 22

The quiet dark was a relief. Noise had pervaded everywhere lately between Mattie ranting, Laura yelling, and the mobs of Summers and Zetas pursuing them all over campus. So Carmilla could appreciate very much the quiet apartment. If only she could get her own head as still and silent.

Everything was torn in two – the humans on one side, vampires on the other – with what felt like herself and Laura in the middle. Maybe Laura couldn't love her but she hadn't turned them over to Vordenberg's goons either. Carmilla hadn't decided if that gesture had made her hopeful or not. Laura had her idea of the perfect story they were all supposed to play their parts in and her righteous hero role probably didn't have enough moral grayness to surrender her ex-girlfriend to someone who would definitely kill her.

It was stupid to even wonder if Laura might still love her, anyway. They were hiding under a floor to avoid detection and death. Whether or not the girl she loved still gave more than a shit about her wasn't really critical at this point. Getting off Silas campus and out of Austria was what mattered. Except she couldn't even think about leaving without Laura, Perry, and LaFontaine.

Able to hear the breathing of everyone in the apartment Carmilla knew that LaFontaine had fallen asleep in Perry's room, in or beside her bed if she was understanding their proximity correctly. Mattie was still riled up below her, breathing fast and hard as she ranted to herself. Laura was still awake, tossing and turning in the bed they'd shared all too briefly.

Carmilla could hear her breathing and that was all that mattered – that her life continued. She let the sound serenade her, the steady in and out spreading through her mind like a mist that silenced the anxious worries in her head. For at least a moment she could pretend that things were going to be alright.

She knew Laura was coming without having to hear her steps. The change in her breathing when she finally got up was enough. Whether or not she was looking for her or simply restless was something Carmilla didn't think she wanted the answer to.

“Hey.” Laura perched herself on the farther edge of the chair across from where Carmilla sat on the couch with her knees drawn up. “Didn't think you'd still be up.”

That answered that question. Carmilla sighed. “Mattie's in a mood. Mood means ranting. I didn't feel like being a literal captive audience.”

“Ahh.”

Silence stretched between them, both making pointed efforts  _ not _ to look at each other. Laura even twiddled her thumbs as the quiet that had been peaceful escape shifted to become loaded and heavy.

“How's Betty Crocker?” Carmilla asked, wanting to know and needing the silence to end.

Laura nodded, seeming relieved not to have to be the one to break the quiet. “Alive.” She hesitated, swinging her head to risk a brief glance at the vampire. “Not that you care.”

Carmilla's hands twitched between her knees. “Not that I care,” she agreed, not breathing. She hooked her thumb beneath the bracelet on her wrist, able to find the inscription in an instant.

“So why me then?” asked Laura, again not looking at her, her own hands laced against her legs.

Carmilla knew perfectly what she wanted to hear, words that would explain everything that she felt, the decisions she'd made. She didn't know how to say it though. Not when her every move for the last half a year had screamed her devotion to this girl. Laura just  _ couldn’t _ seem to see it.

So she just said, “What?”

“You don't care if Perry lives or dies but you keep saving me. From your mother, from your sister, from yourself. She's a college girl in over her head that you've barely met. What makes her any different than I am?”

“What makes any person sacred to another?” Because she'd chosen this girl in every life she'd found her and wouldn't stop.

“Yeah, I felt really sacred when you were leaving discarded blood bags all over the apartment,” said Laura, moving to the seat in front of her computer's new home on the relocated desk.

Carmilla moved to follow her without thought, as she'd ever done. “I know it isn't pretty, but that's part of it too. She isn't mine.” As much as she loved Perry, loved LaFontaine, the answer to Laura's question was simple. Laura was  _ hers _ . In whatever form she found her, in whatever relationship they made. Laura was hers. The way Perry and LaFontaine were each other’s. She was Laura's and Laura was hers.

“You are.” She smiled in spite of everything, still amazed by the simple truth of it. “To annoy, or not, to love, or not.” Her smile slipped away. “To save, or not.”

She'd failed all of them. Lost every single girl she'd ever loved. Not this time. No matter what it took.

Laura's breath came out choked, wet with tears she wasn't yet crying. “Carm, you can't just -”

“I know!” Carmilla snapped back. “You don't want any possessive vampire crap.” Laura sighed, her whole body slumping as she breathed. “You want reasons, a trail of thoughts and justifications that you can follow back to somewhere safe. You want the kind of love that clicks, like a key into a lock.” She'd had that love with Lorelei, had known from the first day that girl was special. Every day with her had only proven that she'd been right that first morning in the bakery.

Nothing with Laura had been so simple, ever. Laura pushed her at every turn, challenged her, and antagonized her.

“But I don't have any of that to give you.” Whatever simplicity they'd had had existed in another life, with another girl. She and Laura seemed born to push each other. “All I know is that in more than a century you're the only person I ever found worth saving.” A smile curled her lips unbidden. She had found her again. She'd found her and fallen for her only to lose her every single time. Not this one. No matter what it took. “You and no one else.”

“It's not enough.” Laura's voice broke and took Carmilla's heart along with it.

“I know.” Carmilla heard the breathy sobs Laura held back in the breath she drew and her own chest felt tight. She'd do anything to never make her cry again. But she simply couldn't be the person Laura wanted her to be. “God, it used to drive me nuts when I would do things for you, that were so clearly only for you, and you'd say 'I know-”

“-you didn't just do it for me,” Laura finished with a quiet scoff of a laugh at her own obtuseness. “Yeah.” She sniffed, still trying to control the emotions that wanted to streak down her face.

“Until I realized it was because you wanted me to be doing what was right for some reason beyond the fact that you wanted me to.” Their eyes met but couldn't hold, Carmilla dropping her gaze to somewhere safe.

Laura sighed. “I don't know what you want me to say, Carm.” She shook her head, still looking at Carmilla's pained profile. “I wish I could say that it doesn't matter but it does.”

Blinking, Carmilla had to lift her face. This rift between them felt impassable. She needed  _ more – _ more time, more words, more  _ love – _ without knowing how to find any of it. “Do you miss me?” It was weakness but she had to know that this,  _ them _ , had meant enough to Laura to regret. Regret the start or the end, it almost didn't matter.

Laura wasn't breathing. Her eyes moved across Carmilla's face and she visibly gathered herself. “Like someone cut a hole in me,” she said, drowning for the moment in the fraught emotion of her acknowledgment.

It was enough. For now. Carmilla nodded even as Laura drew a breath. Her mouth moved as if she might say more and Carmilla looked away. She couldn't hear hope and have it dashed. Not tonight.

Laura caught her breath, Carmilla could hear it, and she looked up again. “Goodnight, Carm.”

Letting her own gaze trail and jump, Carmilla went from Laura's eyes to her mouth to her hands clenched in her lap to her own nails digging into her knees. “Goodnight.” Then Laura was pushing herself to her feet and leaving the room and Carmilla couldn't let her go without saying more. No matter what Laura thought of her reasons for the actions she took, it was still all for her.

“Under her shirt Mattie wears a locket.” Laura had to survive. “Inside of it is a piece of her heart. That's what makes her impossible to kill.” Across the room Laura was staring at her. Carmilla stared back, needing to know that this betrayal may be worth something. Laura had to live. “If she ever tries -” she stammered, had to wet her lips and lower her eyes. “-if she ever tries to kill you again take the locket and crush what's inside.”

The knuckles of her hands were white with the force she was clenching her fists, Carmilla watching the slow flow of blood through the veins beneath her skin when she couldn't bear to look at Laura. When she finally risked a further look the room was empty but for the roaring of her thoughts in her head.


	46. April 15, 2015 - Season 2, Episode 28

Perry felt like her mind was drowning.  Disappearing into some murky nothingness as her body continued with its daily routine.  She’d lost time at the beginning of the semester, an hour here or there, but nothing terribly outside of her normal inability to keep an eye on the clock.  Now she was lost in the murky shadows more often than not, coming back to consciousness somewhere she didn’t remember walking to, wearing clothes she couldn’t remember putting on.

Her dreams, though, were vivid and terrifying while her daily life had become muted and blurred.  Blood, coating her hands, as she watched her body kill again and again.  In the beginning, she’d written it off as trauma and an overactive imagination.  But as the semester wore on, as she found the words on the tip of her tongue being squashed on those rare occasions she felt most herself, she knew it was something more.

She came to in the entryway of the Dean’s apartment, her feet squishy with blood.  She made towards Laura’s computer, bloody footprints in her wake.  The camera was running, but that was normal.  All she wanted was to type something, anything, to gain her friends’ attention.  Speaking hadn’t worked in months, since shortly after getting back to campus, but she hadn’t tried writing or typing.

Perry felt frozen in front of the keyboard.  She had no idea what to write.  She was trapped in her own mind?  Possibly murdering tons of people?  She stared at the screen, not even noticing she wasn’t alone in the room until Mattie was already behind her.

“Are you going to kill me?”  She knew she’d pushed Carmilla’s sister too far, too hard.  And she was fairly sure  _ she _ was the real monster, not the woman Carmilla greeted with such enthusiasm.

“I don’t know; I haven’t decided.  It’s been a weird night.”  If there was one thing she could agree with Mattie on, it was that.

“Where did all the blood come from?”  The words barely came out, but she found her voice for a second, the fear and confusion plastered on her face.

“You don’t know?”  She almost thought Mattie was concerned for her, for a moment, but shook her head.  Perry’s feet were soaked, but she had no idea why, or how.  “Well, this world can be a messy place and if a girl’s gonna get anywhere, she might have to spill a little blood.  Or a lot.  Now, we have a problem, you and I.  Something isn’t quite right.  I can feel it.  Like a storm in the distance coming for us.  And you, Miss Prim and Proper, you know something-”

“How could I possibly know anything-“  Her instinct was still to deny, deny, deny, and those words came out more easily than the  _ help me, please, I think I’m hurting people but I can’t remember it _ on the tip of her tongue.

“You do.  Someone killed your little pals at the paper, but not you.  No.  They send you messages.  They send you dreams.”  Apparently her screaming nightmares were something even Mattie could hear, in her wing of the Dean’s apartment.  She could scream and scream but she couldn’t form words.  She’d tried, early on, to call out for LaFontaine while in the grip of one.  Half-asleep, half truly awake for the first time in days.  She hadn’t even gotten out their name, let alone her plea.  And then she’d sunk back into the horror of the nightmares.  Memories.  She wasn’t sure anymore.

The mention of her dreams by Mattie, though, snapped something inside of her.  The words she  _ wanted  _ to say didn’t come out, but other words, words that were  _ hers _ if not ones she thought herself, forced their way from her mouth.  “Do you want to know what I see in my dreams?  I see the Great Beast dead and the gates opening.  I see the reign of hell on earth.  The end of all things.  The first gate wants strength, wants the rook.”

“What?”

“The first gate wants the rook.”  For some reason she knew that part was important enough to repeat, some  _ knowing _ deep in her gut, where these words came from beyond her control.  In all her reading, all her studying before she got to Silas, she knew what she was doing, finally.  Prophesying.  She knew the feeling, vaguely, in the little things she’d foretold over the years, but this was  _ big _ .  This was big in a way that terrified her more than the lost time and the murders her hands might have carried out.  She’d never wanted more to retreat to a castle tower full of cooking sherry than she did at that moment.  Remembering this, remembering the words that were hers but not.  She didn’t want that on her soul, a soul she was sure was already sullied by death and horror.

“Are you playing games with me?”  If nothing else, the fear in Mattie’s eyes was a chillingly human reminder that like herself, Mattie was a pawn in some larger game neither of them could see the board of.

For the first time, Perry could tell what her body was doing as she slipped out of control.  She heard herself almost purr, her voice low, sultry, with a cruel edge, “Do you really think that this is a game?”  And then she knew nothing more, not for a long time.


	47. April 24, 2015 - Season 2, Episode 34

“I know you're furious. I know that what I did was a betrayal and maybe unforgivable, and that you're probably going to have to hate me for as long as I’m alive, which really isn't seeming like much of a stretch right now. And I know that you don't want to listen to anything I have to say, so here's my pitch – help us anyway.”

From across the length of the cavernous hall beneath the library she'd claimed as her base of operations Carmilla paced between the narrow walls. Her panther wanted to roar, to make the walls tremble with the sounds of her rage and pain.

A sigh. “And not because I'm all righteous and looking for you to redeem yourself. Or some pure-hearted lady fair you're trying to win.” A heavy pause. “If this semester has taught me anything it really is that I have no business trying to be righteous. Everything that I've ever done to uphold what I think is right has caused so much damage. And I don't want to do that anymore. Cause it makes me just like Vordenberg, or like the Dean was. So dead set on what I think is right that I’m willing to risk anything.”

Carmilla's throat felt tight, the blood sour in her mouth. Her teeth were clenched hard enough to crack them, head falling back on her neck. Sore muscles in her shoulders and back protested, sending aches of pain through her chest that had nothing to do with Laura Hollis. At least, that's what she told herself.

She should be free. Free to do anything she pleased. To kill whoever she wanted and think nothing of the consequences. To let anyone die and feel nothing.

Laura's emotions were choking her voice, making her hoarse. “And I hope you know that I never meant to sacrifice Mattie. Or you.”

Laura Hollis was the reason Mattie was dead. Her sister was dead, after more than a thousand years, because of a selfish, self-righteous, naive, fool of a girl. By every right Carmilla should kill her herself and be done with the whole thing. All of it. The decades of waiting, of finding a new face on the same soul and falling in love with someone who was only going to be lost. She'd come close, with Layla, but she'd never killed one of them herself. Maybe that was her way out.

She'd never have a better chance than she did presently.

Laura breathed deep through the video connection, static making it sound like she was coughing. “So here's what I believe now – that the best thing that we can do with whatever strength we're given is to help each other. To be as kind to each other as we can. And right now there are a whole host of people who need our help.” She was near tears and Carmilla moved closer almost instinctively, without thought for what it meant. “And not because they're human or not, or good or not, but just because they need our help. And so it doesn't matter that it breaks my heart that you hate me.” Carmilla finally saw her face, sinking to her knees in front of the computer. “It doesn't matter that you're going to have to hate me for as long as the earth is round because right now we can do something. We can stop the damage. Help us.”

How had she ever fallen for someone so entirely  _ good _ ? Good beyond reason, or sense, or her own stupid life. It was fortunate that she didn't have to breathe because her chest felt so tight that she wasn't sure air could reach her lungs. It felt like choking, like drowning, fury washing through her in waves of ice and flame. Carmilla reached for the connection without hesitation. Her finger stabbed the screen to connect her side of the video, nearly toppling the tablet. Her shoulders were up, neck straight when the camera's blue light came on, her expression showing her cold fury.

Caught off guard, Laura had finally run out of words. “What do you want, Laura?”

Squeaking, she said, “Hey.” Struggling to find more to say, she floundered. “How are you these days? Are you still you, all non-avatar-y and stuff?”

Carmilla's eyebrows rose but she only said, “So far.” Simple and detached. Unlike their entire relationship.

Laura's breath trembled. “Uh,” she blinked, “cause you look great,” she said, loudly and too fast. “All furious -” She had that right. “-and brooding -” If Carmilla wasn't ready to kill her it would have been cute how well Laura knew her, even now. “Say, is that the library?”

Ready to be done with at least this conversation, if not this entire –  _ thing _ , Carmilla snapped back, “What do you  _ want _ ?!”

Sobering, Laura answered, “You heard what I said. I meant it.” She said it without shifting her eyes from Carmilla's face, earnest and heartbroken. Good. She'd killed Mattie. She  _ should _ feel terrible. “Please help us.” Carmilla wanted to howl. Of course it wasn't about her – about  _ them _ . She was still on her damn, fool, idealistic crusade.

“You're a lunatic.” Still wanting everything Carmilla would never be able to give her. “You're in this mess because I am anything but a hero.” Every single time she'd tried to save anyone she'd failed. “I've spent the entire semester proving to you over and over that I am nobody's hero. And your answer to that is to double down and beg me to be one?”

“Yes.” She didn't miss a beat, her face earnest and wide-eyed. “Help us.”

“You're insane,” Carmilla shot back more emphatically. How could she not see this?

“Quite possibly,” confirmed Laura. “Help us.”

Repeating it didn't make Carmilla do anything more than shake her head and sigh in exasperation. The girl was infuriating. Carmilla's teeth  _ itched _ with the need to bite someone.

“Have you ever considered that hero isn't one thing that one person is supposed to be by themselves?” Laura changed tacks, speaking quickly in case Carmilla cut her off again. “That maybe in this story  _ you  _ are  _ my  _ hero  **_and_ ** I'm your hero. That maybe it's all of our responsibilities to be heroes for each other.”

Fool. Laura was a fool. But Carmilla was the fool who loved her. Even still, she could feel it deep in her chest – her love for this idiot girl – a flame beaten to embers but still burning. “Or maybe this isn't a story, Laura. Maybe this is just life. Where there are no heroes. Where sometimes evil just wins. Full stop. The universe doesn't care whether you live or die. You just do or don't. Depending on whether or not you're strong enough to survive.” She'd been around long enough and that was what she knew. One person could have dreams and plans and could want more than anything to save someone else but when it came down to it whatever was going to happen would happen without a care for who was lost or destroyed in the process.

“Well, I say believing in your friends is a kind of strength.” Shoulders squared and face clear, Laura made something in Carmilla's chest  _ ache _ . With longing or loathing she couldn't tell.

“No, it really isn't.” Unable to bear it any further, Carmilla's finger slipped to cut the connection, making her screen go dark.

Falling back on her heels, Carmilla threw her face to the ceiling of her underground cavern and roared, letting her beast cat express her turmoil better than human words would ever be able to do. She was breathless when the sound's echo finally faded.

Oh how she wished she could walk away from this, from Silas and this girl, all of it. Laura had known her less than a year. Her first year at Silas would eventually become a hazy memory, herself a half forgotten footnote, if Carmilla walked away right now, tonight. Let go of her revenge, let Laura live her life far away from her.

Laura would die tonight without her.

It rang clearer through her mind than whatever argument she wanted to make. If she didn't go, Laura was dead. Of course, if she went she was probably dead too. They were all dead, one way or another.

She was leaning forward before she recognized what it meant, breathing deep and shaking her head. She was the fool now. “Fine. God damn it, what do you want me to do?!” She would do it but nothing said she had to be happy about it. About any of this. Her sister was dead and she was hopelessly in love with the human who'd killed her.

Laura wasn't there, the seat in front of her computer vacant. Perry was by the door, must have come in during the, oh,  _ thirty seconds _ she'd managed to hold onto her dignity.

“Laura?” Her brows furrowed as Perry moved forward. Something about the way she walked, arms swinging with her elbows in tight against her sides, tickled at the back of her mind. Something  _ familiar _ about it. It reminded her for a moment of finding things she remembered in each new incarnation of the girl she loved. But Perry wasn't Laura. The roiling dread in her gut was just nerves and frustration and grief. Wasn't it?

Perry leaned over the desk to bring her face into Carmilla's eyeline. “Are you still there, Laura?” Perry cocked her head and Carmilla's breath caught.  _ No _ . It couldn't be.

“Sorry, dear, she doesn't want to talk to you right now.”  _ It was. _ Making deliberate eye contact and waiting for the recognition to sink in, the Dean reached out and ended the connection, making Carmilla's tablet go blank again.

Carmilla was on her feet and moving as fast as her inhuman abilities could manage, leaving all thoughts of running in her dust.


	48. April 26, 2015 - Post Season 2, Episode 36

 

No one was sleeping. LaFontaine didn't want to talk but Carmilla wasn't anxious to have anyone wandering off either so they had slumped down against the wall and closed their eyes. But they weren't sleeping. How could they when Perry was – and JP was missing?

Trying her best to make things as simple as possible in their situation Carmilla had set a fire but there was no food. Not that they could eat right now, anyway. She'd worry about finding something in the morning. Afternoon. Whatever it was. It was hard to tell underground. At least it had gone quiet outside. That was probably a bad sign, but in the moment it felt like a relief.

Laura was at least pretending to rest, stretched out in front of Carmilla's conjured fire. Her eyes were open, staring into the flames, and she didn't react when Carmilla moved slowly to sit beside her head.

Between counting LaFontaine's choked breaths and Laura's heavy sighs Carmilla could only stand the silence for a brief interval. “You both need to sleep.”

LaFontaine's answer was a wet scoff but Laura only adjusted the arm curled beneath her head. She finally blinked when gentle fingers touched her wrist.

Laura's pulse, slow and steady, was a comfort under her touch and Carmilla's eyes followed the thin blue vein up her arm until it disappeared beneath Laura's sleeve. Her gaze moved up across her shoulder to meet hazel eyes that watered with emotions Laura couldn't yet speak.

“Come here.” It was barely a whisper, Carmilla lightly pulling on the wrist in her grasp. Laura's hair fell across her eyes as she inclined her head but she moved without speaking, shifting just enough to rest her head against Carmilla's leg. Her breath seemed to come easier, even if Carmilla's ceased.

Both hands were up, held in the limbo of indecision. They hadn't talked. Laura had led to Mattie getting killed. Danny was dead. Perry was… gone. This was not the time for – anything. Her fingers delved into the soft honey of Laura's hair anyway.

They both breathed, inhaled and exhaled in time.

There was no other sound but the crackle and pop of the fire, the tears that LaFontaine was struggling to control. Laura's sighs. Carmilla's stomach, growling and protesting. The others weren't hungry but she was getting there. For all that she'd killed a dozen people in the last week she hadn't taken a proper meal from any of them, preferring to drop more bodies in her efforts to rout Corvae and the clubs of Silas.

Laura rocked back to look up at her but her eyes wouldn't stick. “You're hungry,” she whispered, barely audible above the fire.

“Don't worry,” murmured Carmilla. “Nothing I can't handle.” She leaned her head back against the wall behind her. “You're safe.”

Resuming her position pillowed against Carmilla's thigh, Laura sighed again. “I know that.” She was a shadow of herself, still reeling from everything that had happened, that  _ she _ had done, but she wasn't afraid of Carmilla. It made something in the vampire's chest release ever so slightly.

“Will you tell me a story?”

Laura's request was so quiet as to nearly be missed, Carmilla content to card her hands through strands of silk.

“Hmm?”

Laura spoke without looking at her, still watching the fire. Carmilla could see her blink, watched her throat move as she swallowed. Her pulse jumped. “I just – I know we're in trouble again. And we can throw blame around if we have to -” Carmilla's mouth fell open. “-but right now I’m scared.” Laura started to turn her head and look up but caught herself. Her hand came up to play with the creases in the knees of Carmilla's jeans instead. “You – your voice – hearing you talking – it makes me feel safe. But we can't really  _ talk _ so I thought -”

Her confession over, Laura breathed deep. There was a thin spot in the worn denim of Carmilla's jeans and Laura's finger scratched at it restlessly. Carmilla's hand, caught again in uncertain hesitation, stretched and flexed before returning to Laura's hair. Starting from the ends, she worked her touch up the strands before burying the tips of her fingers through the thick, lush roots. Laura sighed again but it sounded less heavy than it had previously.

“Once upon a time -” Laura's breath came in a huffed laugh. “You want me to tell it, this is how I’m telling it,” Carmilla said, though she was smiling to herself. “Fine. A long time ago -”

“In a galaxy far, far away,” LaFontaine murmured from their slump against the wall.

“There was a girl,” started Carmilla, leaning her own head back against the wall. Her fingers still playing with Laura's hair. “She lived all alone in a house by the sea. Well, mostly alone. Her brother was there too. She  _ wished _ she could live there all alone, let's say.” She closed her eyes and breathed deep. Imagination and memory brought back the salty smell of the shore perfectly. Laura's finger stilled against her knee, tapping instead of teasing the new rip in her pants. “She told herself she could be happy there, like that. Alone and isolated. But she didn't stay that way. Some old friends caught up with her and came to live in her big, empty house on the beach.”

Carmilla didn't,  _ couldn't, _ look at LaFontaine as she spoke. Something like a fist squeezed deep inside her chest.

“She hated her brother but she loved her friends. Even found a job that she liked. And her life got good again.” The hand in her chest reached out to pluck a single sinew, the pain sharp and specific and deliberate. “Enter the girl,” she sighed. Her hand had stopped stroking Laura's hair, was just resting against her head, and she started circling her fingertips slowly in just the hint of movement.

“They met and from the first minute everything was better and brighter. Merely existing became living again. It was like magic.” Laura's breath caught where she rested against her leg. “Just a story, cupcake,” she murmured, her fingers twitching through soft hair. The memory of Lill's smile was as vivid as it had ever been her mind and it made Carmilla smile to herself, drawing in a deep breath.

The vampire sighed, the sound something Laura couldn't read, somewhere on the vast spectrum between unutterable joy and indescribable sorrow. Either way it felt echoing and aching. She was unable to imagine how much someone would have to live through to be able to understand that sigh. Given everything that she'd lived through this semester, Laura was sure she didn't want any deeper understanding of Carmilla's grief. She had a feeling that she might not have much of a choice about that, however.

“So they fell in love?” Laura prompted when Carmilla's silence stretched and grew.

“At first sight, right? That's how the stories go.” Laura hummed, nuzzling against the denim under her head. Her fingers wormed behind Carmilla's knee, thumb circling on her leg. “They were mad for each other. Overwhelming sense and reason and practicalities like work and family. When they were together nothing else mattered. The world fell away.”

“And everyone lived happily ever after,” LaFontaine submitted, the sarcasm and bitterness tangible and heavy.

“What kind of story would that be? Nah,” answered Carmilla, her own wit biting and sharp. “No, they end sudden and tragic.”

Laura whined. “I don't like this story.”

“Just because something has an unfortunate ending doesn't mean the story itself isn't worth telling,” Carmilla said evenly. Laura was holding her breath, Carmilla's hand going still in her hair as the relevance of what she'd said sunk in. “The story isn't done yet,” Carmilla whispered. She wasn't sure if LaFontaine could hear her but it didn't matter at that moment. Laura was the one who needed to hear her, to understand. The hand on her leg squeezed. Carmilla cleared her throat, licking her lips, and her touch moved down to brush Laura's pulse below her jaw.

“So what happened? How'd they go from blissfully in love to tragedy?”  _ And what made it so worthy of a story? _ Laura's question wasn't spoken aloud but Carmilla knew it was there, lurking behind Laura's teeth, under her tongue.

“The villain, of course.” Carmilla's smile was barely that – toothy and terrible. She tongued her fangs, catching LaFontaine watching her from across the fire. “We're not there yet though.” She kept her eyes on them and schooled her smile back to something pleasant. “Our hero -” she caught herself. “Our girl and her girl had a nice life, a good home, with her friends in the house by the sea.” She blinked, wetting her lips. “Her friends were together their whole lives. She never knew them to spend a day apart in their entire relationship. It was -” she floundered, trying to find the word that would reach LaFontaine at this moment. “It was steady, and good. In a life without a lot to count on, they were something real. She never forgot it. Never will.”

Clearing her throat, Carmilla continued, “Our girl had a mother who was a piece of work. She knew it. Her brother didn't. He didn't know or care. He loved their mother. So when the girls wanted to leave, to make their own life, find their own place in the world, he didn't much like that.” She sighed. “He wanted his sister to fall back in line with what their mother wanted for them.”

Choking up was entirely unexpected. She'd worked out her grief and rage over what had happened to Lill on Will for decades after he'd killed her girlfriend. After he'd drained her, destroyed her, and left her body in pieces, cold and empty on the street in Sweden. Carmilla was surprised that anything could still affect her, after so long and so much loss. That it could still  _ hurt _ so much.

“They had plans,” she continued, her voice gravel and thick. “To leave and live simply, away from everyone else's expectations.” Laura's breath caught and Carmilla grimaced, realizing again too late the relevance. “They didn't get a chance. The night before they were going to leave our girl's brother overheard their plans and he caught his sister's girl walking home on her own. He killed her fast and brutal to keep his sister from making any moves against their mother.”

Laura finally looked up at her, brows drawn down and her mouth pouting. “This is not a good story, Carm.”

Only smiling, Carmilla shook her head minutely. “Oh, but it was good for them. Not the end, obviously, but those two girls were happy together. They loved each other in a way that doesn't just happen every day.” Her voice was rocky but she was more peaceful than sad. “I've lived nearly four hundred years and I've only seen it a handful of times.” Laura was still staring at her and Carmilla looked down to find her eyes for only a moment. “No matter how I've seen it end, the story is always worth the telling, sweetheart.” She looked across the fire at LaFontaine, shadowed blue eyes not blinking. “It always comes back around,” she promised solemnly.

They only heaved a heavy sigh, breaking the gaze and finally stretching out on the ground without a word. After a moment they turned over, their back toward Carmilla.

Her shoulders slumped. She couldn't blame them, really. Perry was missing, at the least. They were safe, more or less, but she knew how she had felt every time Laura was in danger. Her hand slipped down, fingers dragging down the length of Laura's neck.

“That story...” Carmilla made a prompting noise when Laura trailed off hesitantly. “That was you, wasn't it?”

“Laura -”

“No, I know, I just – what happened to your friends?” She nudged against Carmilla's thigh with her head. “I want a real happy ending.”

Carmilla stretched her legs out in front of her, stroking up and down Laura's skin. The shiver she got in reward made her smile. She reached out with her other hand for her vest, draping it over the reclining girl. Laura sighed and snuggled in. “They were together for their whole lives, like I said,” Carmilla told her. “Never spent more than a day apart in almost sixty years. I met them in Amsterdam at university. They were only twenty, already in love.”

“You knew them -”

“Until they died.” Her voice dropped, thick again with emotion. “On the same day, if not quite together. They didn't want to live without each other and they didn't.” She cleared her throat, not sure what else to say. Laura's breath came heavy, a gasping sob. “Was that ending more what you were hoping for?”

“Does everyone die in your stories?” asked Laura, sniffling even around her pout.

Carmilla laughed softly. “Well, I'm a vampire, creampuff. I tend to live a bit longer than most everyone else I know.”

“Do you miss them? Your friends. I mean, you knew them for so long.” Laura drew slow circles and patterns across her leg with her finger.

“Very much. But I have a very good memory. And very good memories.” LaFontaine's shoulders were stiff across the fire, hunched. “We'll find your friends too,” she promised, speaking to them both.

“Yeah,” Laura agreed around a yawn. Warm and safe and with at least relative peace, it didn't take long for her exhaustion to finally consume her.

Carmilla heard the steady breathing that she'd become familiar with, waited for it before she spoke again to the person across the fire who was decidedly  _ not  _ sleeping. “I promise you. Whatever it takes. We will get her back.”

LaFontaine turned their head just enough to see her through the flames between them. “Why would you care?” they asked, still sharp and bitter.

“You know why,” Carmilla answered simply, leaning back against the wall and shifting down slightly without disturbing Laura. She closed her eyes when LaFontaine turned their back again.


	49. May 20, 2015 - Post Twitter Adventure

Carmilla groaned as she checked the bookmark in her phone’s browser that led to LaFontaine’s twitter page.  Once again she internally bemoaned her own stubbornness about following Laura and LaF on social media.  Now she had a moment to breathe, and figure out what had LaFontaine so sullen, besides the obvious.  She started to scroll back through the tweets that she hadn’t seen yet, hadn’t been tagged in.

**_S.LaFontaine_ **

_ And, as an inanimate object, he’ll care slightly more about my thoughts and feelings than Carmilla does. _

She felt her heart twist in her chest.  She’d maintained the fiction of being distant from her friend for a year now, after silently and oh-so-carefully tracking them for almost thirteen years.  First semester she’d needed to be distant, to protect them and Perry.  Second semester, she admitted to her own cowardice, only offering them dribs and drabs of affections, of herself.  Opening herself up to Laura had been hard enough.  Now, now as she started to extend that openness to LaFontaine only to be rebuffed in anger.  Now, while her mother was apparently  _ not _ dead, and already knew she’d do anything to protect them.  Protect Laura.  Protect Perry.

Carmilla steeled herself, switched over to the twitter app, and made a decision.  She clicked to Laura, and hit follow.  Then to LaFontaine, doing the same.   **_@heycarmilla_ ** was now following two accounts.  She heard the little notification bings hit both their phones.  As LaF was googling god knows what, they already had their phone in hand.  She could only watch, silent, as their eyes widened.  They looked over at her, and she tried to smile, tried to reassure them without speaking.  

The words were stuck in her throat.  How do you explain to someone that thinks you don’t care, that in fact you’d do anything to protect them, keep them safe?

Laura glanced up from her phone, tears in her eyes, “Carm…” 

Carmilla was sure she looked the fool as she couldn’t tear her gaze away from LaFontaine’s.  All she wanted was one of their bearhugs, but knew she hadn’t earned it yet, knew that it wouldn’t mean what it used to.  They stared at her - befuddled, sullen, and still angry.

The click-clack of high heels on stone echoed from the long, dark hallway they’d been ignoring ever since they’d all found each other again.  Carmilla jumped to her feet, shoving Laura over by LaFontaine and standing in front of them both protectively.  Whomever it was smelled familiar in a distinctly impossible way, and she wasn’t going to let whatever threat it was hurt her people.

Matska Belmonde, still wearing the clothes she’d died in, strode into the circle of light LaFontaine had rigged.  “Mircalla.”

“Mattie?”  Carmilla’s jaw dropped, nearly unhinging itself in her shock.  “What the hell?”

“Well I don’t know  _ exactly _ what happened, sister dear, except that I’m quite sure you gave up my little secret to Lois Lane there, who promptly ran to the giant, who  _ killed _ me.”  Mattie’s anger was palpable, making the atmosphere in the room thick and uncomfortable, but Mattie was standing before Carmilla, as not-dead and sarcastic as ever, and Carmilla’s unbeating heart sang at the reality that her sister was there.

“Mattie… Mattie, I swear, I never…” Carmilla trailed off because, yes, she had chosen Laura over her sister.  And she’d have to deal with that guilt for as long as she existed.  Which, given Mattie’s rage, was probably about five minutes.

“Blame me,” Laura spoke up from behind Carmilla.  “I’m the one who told Danny.”

“And where is the ginger giant?” Mattie growled.

“She’s dead,” Carmilla cut in quickly, trying to manhandle Laura back behind her.

“Did my dear sister betray me and then avenge me?  How delicious.” 

Carmilla shook her head, shame at her betrayal and relief that she hadn’t actually killed Danny – as she had so desperately wanted to – warring inside her chest.

“So you’re telling me that I’ve had to hear about how you loathed that woman for  _ sixty years _ , and when you  _ finally _ had a legitimate reason to kill her, you  _ didn’t _ ?”  Mattie sounded outright confused.

“I’m sorry,  _ sixty years _ ?” Laura spoke up from where Carmilla had shoved her into LaFontaine’s arms.

Mattie’s eyes brightened as Carmilla mentally cringed.  So there was to be mental torture before her much more powerful sister killed them all.  “Oh, she hasn’t told you?  Really now…”  Mattie stalked forward, eyes gleaming with delight as she peered at Laura, “My dear Mircalla hasn’t mentioned how many times she’s loved you?  All the lives you’ve known one another?  Hasn’t woven some grand romantic story out of all the tragedy and soppy domesticity?”

“Mattie,” Carmilla’s voice was soft, pleading.

“ _ I _ didn’t meet you until the 1920’s of course.  Bit more than a century late to the game,” Mattie examined her nail beds, clucking softly in despair at the need for a manicure.  “I believe you next ran into her in the 50’s, and my, my,  _ my _ did you break Mircalla’s heart that time.  She was an absolute  _ mess _ after you died.  The ginger twins were there through it all, pulled her from her doldrums just in time for you to pop back up in the 70’s.  What a wonderful family dinner we all had, eh?  Perry, LaFontaine, William, you, me, Carmilla.  Bit of a tussle when William bit you, though.”

“Mattie,” Carmilla growled, not wanting Laura to connect what Mattie was saying to the fairy tale she’d told her and LaFontaine only a few days ago.  Not wanting Laura to  _ really _ know.  Not yet, anyways.

“But oh my, when William killed you?  How  _ angry _ she was.  Ran off after him, chased him across the world for  _ decades _ .”  Mattie’s cruel smirk widened.  “How she rained down hell on our little brother for ripping your head off the day before she was going to turn you.”

Carmilla could hear Laura gag and LaFontaine’s heart was pounding loudly enough that she could hear it from across the space.  “Mattie, please.”

“Oh sister dear, you  _ deserve _ this.  I’m going to kill you, and then I’m going to kill her.”  Her eyes drifted over to LaFontaine.  “The ginger can go.  Always liked your wife, wouldn’t want to put her out.  Though she’s been a bit antsy this time around.  She’s lucky I’m so fond of her or I would have killed her the first time she accused me of murder.”

“Matska.”  A new voice came from the hall, soft but commanding.  Scolding, almost, but with a fond tinge.

“Ah, I should introduce you, of course.  Manners before murders.”  She held out her arm, and into the light stepped an elegant, beautiful woman with warm brown skin in jeans and a black leather jacket, sturdy hiking boots, with a huge overstuffed pack hanging from one shoulder.  Short curls of dark hair barely starting to be streaked with gray were just brushing the collar of her shirt and she stood nearly as tall as Mattie’s jaw, even in her thick-soled boots.  The woman took Mattie’s hand gently, an old battered wedding band gleaming on her ring finger, as she stepped up to the angry vampire’s side.  “This is my wife, Amina.  I believe you met her briefly, after  _ I traded my necklace and my freedom to mother and then dug you out of your coffin _ , sister dear.”  She couldn’t resist smirking as Carmilla’s jaw dropped, “My wife of seven hundred years, I might add.”

“Your wife who raised your ass from the dead, but  _ not _ so you could gut your little sister’s girlfriend,” Amina added, amusement in her tone

“They broke up,” Mattie snapped.

“So did we, for twenty years.  You never factor that into your introduction of me,” Amina remarked calmly.  “The late fifteenth century was rough for us,” she offered to the others.  

“She’ll just come back in a couple of decades,” Mattie argued again.

“Reincarnation isn’t respawning.  This isn’t a video game that you abhor so much.  This is your sister and the girl she loves.  Neither are characters who feel nothing,” Amina said as she glanced around the dusty bowels of the library, shifting the pack on her shoulder.

Mattie sighed.  “I am well aware of that.”

“Well then  _ act _ like it.  We have bigger problems than the two of you.”  Amina swatted at Mattie fondly before turning to the others.  “Have any of you been  _ watching _ Laura’s channel?”  Blank looks and shaking heads were the only reply she got, and Amina visibly sighed.  “You should have been.  And not just since you got chased into the library, but all semester.  The Dean isn’t dead.”

“We  _ have _ kind of figured that out,” Laura said from behind Carmilla’s shoulder.

“She’s possessed your friend Perry,” Amina added, voice kind but utterly matter of fact.  

LaFontaine paled, before stumbling forward into Laura.  With a burst of vampire speed, Carmilla caught them before they fell.  “You’re lying,” they ground through gritted teeth, glaring at the new vampire.

Mattie shivered next to her wife, murmuring, “That explains a lot.”

Carmilla sunk to her knees, LaFontaine in her arms.  “Something’s been off about her.  I didn’t want to see it.  Didn’t think it was that.  But…what’s your proof?” she demanded of her newly discovered sister-in-law.

Amina pulled a tablet out of her pack and queued up Laura’s channel.  “Watch.  She’s decided to take over.”

They all watched, rapt and full of dread as the Dean asserted control over Perry’s body, raising Danny from the dead and as Kirsch was offered up as Danny’s first meal.  When the vlog ended LaFontaine crawled away, vomiting until their stomach could only offer up bile to stain the cold stone floor.  Carmilla hovered behind them, providing physical support as they retched uncontrollably, tears running down their face.

Laura was flabbergasted, face pale and hands shaking as she took the tablet from Amina to rewatch, before, after Amina’s nod, using the tablet to change her password for her cloud storage, where all the raw footage for her channel as well as her research had been backed up, since the Dean had physical possession of her laptop.  She started to scroll through her footage and caught the Dean-as-Perry answering Carmilla’s call before the battle.

“How much of… how much of Perry has actually been  _ Perry _ this semester?” she asked Amina, her voice pleading for comfort.

Amina shook her head.  “I’ve been watching, since Mattie arrived here, and I watched all the videos you made last semester.  But I don’t know her as well as you do.  I’d say… mostly her in the beginning.  But more and more Lilita as time progressed.  Her body language changed.  She… I never met Lilita.  Matska has been careful to keep us  _ very _ far apart over the centuries.  But…”

“… it’s still visible enough even to a stranger,” Laura finished for her, folding in on herself.  Amina smiled weakly, nodding.

Carmilla ignored Mattie, her new sister-in-law, and even Laura as she held a trembling LaFontaine in her arms.  The retching had stopped, but they shivered, covered in a cold sweat and crying.  “We’ll get her back,” she murmured to them, rocking gently.  “I promise, we’ll get her back.”

Mattie sat down on a nearby crate, her eyes hollow as she thought through the past few months.  Hindsight was always 20/20, even for vampires of her age and experience.  “We worked right into her hands.  She got everything she wanted, didn’t she, love?”

Amina pressed a kiss to her wife’s brow.  “Pretty much.  As soon as I saw what happened to you, I came.  I wasn’t going to leave you at their mercy, and I wasn’t going to let anyone kill Mircalla.”

Mattie studied the others.  LaFontaine was curled in on themselves, Carmilla holding them gently, while Laura sped through her raw footage, taking as many notes as she could and trying to make sense of everything.  “We’ve been played.  We’re in the basement of a sentient library that may or may not kill us, I’ve already died once this year which is far too often for my taste, and trying to get Mother out of Perry…”

“Could very well lead to a fate worse than a final death, I know,” Amina finished.  “But if we leave, they’ll stay.  And I know you’re angry, but you love her.  You’d never forgive yourself if this destroyed her.”

“She betrayed me,” Mattie spat out.

“She did.  It was foolish and risky and it had horrible consequences.  But she did it for love.  You would have done the same in her position.  But thankfully, the consequences were undoable.  You came back to me.”

Mattie couldn’t disagree with that.  She’d done  _ far _ worse to protect Amina over the centuries.  She tipped her face up, eyes meeting Amina’s loving gaze before their lips met softly.  Pulling back from the kiss, she sighed and rested her head on Amina’s chest.

“I know you.  You’re always prepared.  What did you bring?”  She patted the crate next to hers, and Amina plopped down gently, hefting her bag onto the floor by their feet.

“Well, first, I brought you some comfortable clothes and better shoes.  If we’re going to wage an insurgency against your mother, you can’t do it in heels.”  She pulled out jeans, a tank top, socks, and a well-loved pair of Docs that she handed over.  “Plus, blood, food for the humans, tools, weapons, my tablet,” she waved over at Laura, “and a few bits and bobs.  I had a feeling we’d end up roughing it.”

Pressing a kiss to the corner of Amina’s mouth, Mattie smiled – the honest happy smile that only her wife and her sister brought out in her.  “Keep an eye on the idiots, I’m going to go change.”

When she came back, her dress and heels in hand, now much closer to her wife’s height and comfortably settled into more practical clothing, she found Amina unpacking a wealth of gear from her bag.  “You thought we’d end up roughing it?  The only thing you didn’t pack are snowshoes.”  She reached out to grab her favorite short sword.

“Best to be prepared.  You had a bunch of humans involved in this, and a violent rabble pounding at the door when I finally got to Austria.  I can hear the humans’ stomachs growling, let alone your sister’s.”  She grabbed two dehydrated meals, a packet of drink mix, utensils, a large mug, and a pot, before heading over to Laura.  “I assume you found a bathroom or a water fountain around here somewhere?  When you’re ready one of us can make fire for you.”

Laura looked up from the tablet, confusion on her face until she spotted what Amina was holding out to her.  “The library keeps rearranging itself, but I think there’s a restroom...”  She glanced around, seeing the small marked door in a dark corner.  “-Over there.  Thank you.  We’ve been raiding the vending machines but we lost that coming through the forest.”  Amina raised an eyebrow at that but handed off everything before moving over to Carmilla with a bloodbag.  

“Laura’s dealing with the mortal food, but you need to eat too, darling,” she said quietly, handing over the bag to her sister-in-law.  Carmilla accepted it with a blank expression, keeping one hand on LaFontaine’s back as she greedily sucked down the blood.  “Do you think they’ll want to eat?” she murmured, glancing at LaFontaine who was still trapped in their own grief.

“No, they won’t, but I’ll make sure they do,” Carmilla answered, eyes grateful as her own hunger receded.

Amina stalked back over to her gear and her wife to find Mattie organizing everything, and setting up a sleeping area nearer the restroom, while Laura prepared food over a small conjured flame.  The double camping pad and sleeping bag were behind a few crates, offering a modicum of privacy, while blankets and other sleeping gear was piled neatly for the rest to choose from.  Mattie looked up as she drank down her blood.  “You really thought of everything, love.  Thank you.”

She shrugged, settling down next to her wife on their bedding.  “You can’t wage a rebellion on bad sleep and empty stomachs.  You would have had to abandon your mother’s apartment sooner or later, probably without time to bring anything useful along.  And we have a whole campus to raid, now that the library has settled down.”

“Settled down?  The cub reporter just described a literal  _ jungle _ they had to fight their way through, a  _ dinosaur _ , and a murderous army of tin soldiers.”  Mattie snorted.  “Settled down.  You’re not used to Silas, darling.”

“And yet it let me pass through its tunnels without a problem.  From the watchtower entrance off campus, straight to your mother’s basement, and then the two of us came directly here without assault.  No, the library knows what it’s doing.  We just have to listen to it.  Trust it.  Let it work out its kinks and erase the damage your mother likely did to it.”  Amina smiled, and took her own bloodbag to drink.  “We will, however, have to figure out more to eat.  I only brought so much.”

Mattie waved her concern off.  “Now that we’re all together, we can raid health services, the cafeteria and the fraternities for what we need.  And the library itself.  There’s at least half an armory hidden around here somewhere.  That we know of.”  

She watched as Laura finished eating half the pot of food before handing it off to her ex.  Carmilla slowly coaxed LaFontaine into eating, offering small sips of sports drink between bites.  When the food was nearly gone, LaFontaine shook their head, unwilling to eat any more.  Laura took the pot back, finishing the food before it cooled and heading to the restroom to wash everything.  Mattie politely ignored her sister’s coaxing of the traumatized ginger, as Carmilla helped LaF up and settled them into a nest of blankets Laura had arranged.  Within a few minutes, they were snoring softly.  Mattie frowned.  She hated snoring.

Carmilla pressed a soft kiss to LaFontaine’s forehead before moving to kneel in front of Mattie.  “I’m sorry.”

Mattie sighed, taking in her sister’s regretful eyes and pained expression.  “I would have done the same,” she murmured.  “And…”  She shrugged, hand at her breastbone where her locket used to lie.  “… the locket was a punishment.  A weakness Mother could exploit.  It’s not how I would have chosen to deal with that issue, but as I am not actually permanently dead, I think I can  _ eventually _ accept the situation.”  She narrowed her eyes, and her hand shot out to grip Carmilla’s throat.  Her sister accepted the choking hand against her windpipe, submitting to Mattie’s rage.  “However, you now know about my  _ true _ greatest weakness, Mircalla.  And  I will not accept you doing anything to hurt her.  Do you understand?”

“You have to let her go just enough to speak, dear,” Amina said, softly patting her wife’s thigh.  Mattie loosened her grip, her hand still firm at her sister’s throat while Laura watched on in horror from the restroom door.

“I understand.  I won’t let anything happen to her if I can help it,” Carmilla choked out.

She released her sister, letting Carmilla softly rub at her bruised throat.  “Same.”  Mattie took a deep, unnecessary breath.  “Now, we’ll let the humans sleep tonight, and swap off watch, you think?”

Carmilla nodded.  “I’ll take the first watch?”

Mattie smiled, her rage banked for the time being.  “Thank you.  Wake me next.”  She tugged off her Docs and her jeans, sliding into bed as Amina did the same, and the two vampires curled up together.

Carmilla grabbed a cutlass and moved over to where Laura had set up bedding for them next to a snoring LaFontaine.  She raised an eyebrow at the very couple-y setup, but smiled.  Maybe everything wasn’t lost, quite yet.

“Did your sister just…”  Laura trailed off, her voice small and soft.

“Promise to protect you just as I promised to protect Amina?  Yeah.”  Carmilla shrugged, settling into a comfortable seated position where she could watch the two halls that entered the large room they had found themselves in.  A cheerful blaze in the large stone fireplace gave it a homey glow, enough warmth to cut the chill of a Styrian spring night, even underground.

Laura pressed a soft kiss to her cheek before settling under the blankets.  “I think we have an awful lot to talk about, Carm.”

“We do,” she whispered back.  As Laura drifted off to sleep Carmilla ran a hand through her hair, soothing and soft, as she had done so many times before.

A few hours later, just as Carmilla was about to wake Mattie to take over watch, she heard a single set of footsteps echo down the hall from where Mattie and Amina had emerged hours earlier.  But she could hear two voices, quietly talking.  She moved quietly, shaking her sister awake before she grabbed the cutlass again and positioned herself between the hall and the humans.

She felt Mattie at her shoulder as the footsteps got closer and the voices stopped.  She motioned subtly to the fire, before flicking her wrist to make it burst out brightly, blinding anyone who wasn’t prepared.  

Two forms were in the hall.  One was familiar – JP – and she breathed a sigh of relief that LaF’s friend was okay.  The other was more worrying.  She felt her stomach drop as she saw how Kirsch was translucent in the firelight.  “Hey, hotties!  Awesome!” he exclaimed when he caught sight of them.  “Hey, angry hotties?  There’s something wrong with Danny, I think.  She, like, bit me, after Perry fixed her.”

JP visibly cringed. “As I have been trying to explain to Wilson here, I am neither his ‘bro’ William nor is he, exactly,  _ alive _ any longer.  Perhaps he will take it better from you.”

Carmilla felt her jaw drop.  And she then flinched when Laura woke up only to scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, this is the chapter where our version of season 3 begins - we hope you like the various ways we've changed certain things.


	50. May 24, 2015 - Silas University, Library Basement

**** For as long as she'd lived and all the things she'd done, Carmilla wasn't sure she'd ever been covered in  _ slime _ . She'd lived most of four centuries without feeling this exact level of disgusting. They weren't living quite as rough as a displaced magical forest, but water that was both running and hot tended to be a bit much to ask of their current accommodations.

“You stink,” groaned Laura from behind her hand, following her into what had become their room nevertheless. She'd taken half a shot of the slime but was nowhere near as drenched in it as Carmilla. She need only strip off her outer plaid shirt to be more or less clean again.

Carmilla's grumble was muffled by her own outerwear, the sticky residue catching her hair and leaving her stuck. “God damn it.”

Crossing the room before she could think better of it, Laura helped Carmilla free herself. The shirt hit the ground with an unexpectedly solid sounding thump. Laura wasn't anticipating their proximity once the barrier was gone either. Carmilla's eyes were dark and fathomless, right in front of her. Had they always been so deep? So dark and rich? Laura's next breath caught on the lump in her throat.

If she was similarly affected it didn't show on Carmilla's face. She simply arched a brow when Laura didn't move away from her. “It's nothing you haven't seen before, cupcake,” she reminded her. She grimaced when the hand she tried to put through her hair caught in the gunk coating her.

Relieved, Laura withdrew to giggle behind her hand, watching Carmilla struggling with a smile. She mustered her courage enough to say, “Yeah, well I still like seeing it.” Carmilla looked up from her attempts to free her hand, less unaffected than she'd been a minute before. “If you still -” Laura stopped herself with a grimace. Her hands swung in front of her and she bounced her weight on her toes. “Maybe after you get cleaned up we could talk?”

Caught off guard, Carmilla was the one stammering for a moment. “I'd like – yeah.” She jerked her hand free, grimacing at the hair torn out. “Just – give me a minute?”

Laura nodded, too eager. She couldn't bring herself to care. She only bit her lip to keep her smile from bursting wide across her face as she watched Carmilla mutter and furiously shake her hand as if she could dislodge the clinging slime.

“This shit is starting to burn.”

Laura cocked her head toward the door. “Go on. I'll be here whenever...” she trailed off, restless hands fidgeting with the edge of her t-shirt. It was sleeveless and thin, something Carmilla had scrounged up to amplify their collective wardrobe. Amina had brought some things along but not enough to clothe them all. When Carmilla's eyes raked her up and down it felt like not nearly enough covering. A chill shivered down her spine even as sweat beaded at the back of her neck.

Nodding, Carmilla tugged at her own remaining clothing. In addition to the imagined, or not, burning sensation the accompanying smell seemed to be getting worse as well. “I'll be right back.”

Two steps down the hall she ran straight into her sister, Mattie's arm around her wife's waist, holding her tight against her side. “Mircalla,” Mattie greeted her, sharp and pointed, if no longer outright hostile. “You're filthy.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Carmilla shot back, fanning her shirt away from her skin. “That's what happens when you actually go outside these days.”

Mattie's mouth opened to sling venom right back but Amina was quicker than either sibling. “Now, now, you girls stop it this minute.” Her lips pursed, fingers digging into her partner's arm in a quiet, subtle warning. “You are sisters and you've been through centuries of differences. I can appreciate that the situation is a bit more… contained than you two might appreciate right now, but it's because we're in our situation that you need to work this out.”

“She gave her girlfriend the means to kill me, if you're forgetting,” Mattie argued, heated.

Amina tutted, hand stroking her forearm soothingly. “And I've had the means to restore you since before that necklace existed. I even helped you steal it from your mother, if you recall.” Her other hand reached up to steer Mattie's chin down so her taller lover had no choice but to look her in the eyes. "She's your sister, doll face." Mattie's mouth only pulled at the corners, eyes like flint. "She's in love with the girl." Her own smile was dazzling. "Surely you can empathize."

Mattie melted and Carmilla could only stare. For all the centuries she'd known her sister she had never seen her respond to another person in such a way. Carmilla would have staked money that the only being in the world her sister gave an inch to was her. Mattie gave Amina inches, yards, miles, leagues. Watching them together, it was clear that her sister would give her spouse anything she asked, needed, or desired to please even her smallest whim.

"Fine. For you, she can live until we're out of the latest mess she's made." Mattie's look at Carmilla was pointed, guarded. The trust that had been damaged between them wouldn't be fixed with mere conversation. On any side.

Carmilla had betrayed Mattie. But Laura had betrayed her too.

Nothing would be restored without work. No matter what they wanted.

The reminder wearied her suddenly, making Carmilla's shoulders slump. Amina stepped forward to hug her, surprising the younger vampire. "Don't worry about Matska. She's a kitty cat," she whispered into dark hair.

Carmilla scoffed reflexively. Mattie could hear the whole encounter anyway. "Yeah, she has claws," she agreed, meeting her sibling's cool gaze over her in-law's shoulder. “And teeth.”

Sniffing, Amina waved her hand before her nose when she stepped back from the one-sided embrace. "Terribly sorry, darling, but you-"

"Yeah, I reek," Carmilla agreed with her own grimace of distaste.

Amina ducked in again to peck her cheek lightly. "We'll leave you to it." She sidled back into Mattie's arms and let herself be lead away.

Carmilla watched them, moving in easy synchronicity with their heads together. Part of her wanted to call out a warning for Mattie to stay away from Laura but she held her tongue. Amina wouldn't let her sister antagonize her so blatantly. They'd only just met a few days previously but she knew she could trust her that far already.

Add the sting of never knowing her sister had been married for her entire life to the list of things that needed sorting between Mattie and herself.

Their underground haven had only the one bathroom, complete with more than one leak and no real shower. LaFontaine had worked some questionable engineering on their plumbing to jury rig something that would suit but water pressure and hot water had so far tended to be mutually exclusive. Tonight there was pressure but no heat. It suited her just fine, not wanting to linger but also helpful for scrubbing the slime from her skin.

Carmilla was trembling in her undershirt and panties by the time she returned to the room she was once again sharing with Laura. On the bed, Laura shot up as soon as she was through the doorway. "Carmilla, I just wanted to-" Noticing the shaking, she cut herself off. "You're freezing!" Her hands flexed and twitched. She sank back down on the edge of the bed and shifted backwards against the wall. "Come here?"

Carmilla hesitated, hands pressed flat against the outsides of her thighs. “You sure about that, creampuff?”

Biting her lip, Laura still nodded. Her own hands reached across to rip the covers back. “I know you're not hungry but you still have to be freezing. I can see you shaking from here.” She gnawed her lip, holding it between her teeth as she considered her next statement. “If it will help I will stay on top.” Carmilla's eyebrow arched slowly and Laura flushed from head to toe, her body warm and buzzing. “Of the covers,” she stammered to clarify.

Carmilla stepped forward slowly, body moving like a liquid. “Oh, but that won't help me warm up,” she noted in a purr worthy of her panther avatar. They'd been sleeping close, if not exactly sharing a bed outright, since they'd relocated their lodgings into the library's basement, but this was something else and they both knew it.

“Carm -” Laura tried to argue feebly. They'd come too far and left too much unsaid to simply fall back into bed together. No matter how much she wanted it.

“Don't worry, sweetheart,” Carmilla interjected. “I'll keep my hands to myself.”

“I just think we should talk first,” hedged Laura, wriggling against the quilt, full of restless, anxious energy.

Regardless of her desired aloof presentation, Carmilla couldn't hold back the sigh of relief when she slipped beneath the sheets. Even Laura's proximity through the covers helped. “Get under here,” she requested when Laura hesitated. “Please,” she added, softening her tone deliberately.

They were cautious not to touch but the added body heat had an immediate impact on Carmilla, easing her tremors and letting her breath come easier. When neither one spoke, Laura reached over slowly, her hand hovering over Carmilla's arm without making contact.

Carmilla broke the stalemate, reaching up to lace her fingers through Laura's, guiding their joined hands back to the blankets. Her nails were still dark, the paint chipped. Laura found herself looking at the tiny imperfections, every word she'd wanted to say to Carmilla for months caught somewhere between her heart and her throat.

“I haven't had a chance to touch them up.” Carmilla broke the quiet again. It felt sometimes that she'd spent her entire four hundred years chasing this girl. She'd chase her for another four centuries if she had to. Whoever she became. It was that simple.

No matter how decidedly  _ not _ simple things were now.

“Carmilla, I can't tell you how sorry I am for how bad I screwed everything up.” It burst out of Laura like a cough.

“We've been over this,” Carmilla reminded her gently. “You and me and Mattie all had parts in how things went bad. We all made mistakes.” She breathed deeply, head turning to catch Laura's eyes. A painted thumb traced the bumps of her knuckles lightly. “I'm sorry too,” she offered, sincerity in her eyes, her touch. “For my part.”

Laura nodded, speechless. Her throat was thick when Carmilla lifted their joined hands to kiss the back of her hand lightly. “Is your sister ever going to forgive us?” she whispered, unable to hold Carmilla's gaze.

“I don't know,” she answered honestly. “I won't let her hurt you though.”

Laura's barking laugh surprised them both. “That's part of our problem, isn't it?”

“If you think that was our problem -” Carmilla shot back, dropping Laura's hand to push her hair back from her face.

“That's not – I didn't mean it like that!” yelped Laura, reaching out swiftly to pull Carmilla's hands between her own again. “I just – I can't imagine – you chose to save me.”

Carmilla's sigh was heavy but she didn't pull away. “That is all I've ever done, Laura.”

“You chose to save me over your sister,” Laura said in a small voice. Carmilla said nothing, not sure there was a way to explain how much of her life she'd burn to the ground for this girl. “I'm sorry that I betrayed that. I was trying to save people. I never meant to get Mattie killed.” She exhaled and it wilted her in Carmilla's quiet. “I can't imagine what I'd do if Amina hadn't showed up and -” Her voice trembled. “Carmilla...”

“She's my sister,” Carmilla breathed, gazing into some middle distance. “She's alive. That's what matters.”

Laura hugged her arm, drawing her back to the present. Hesitating less than she had been, Laura leaned over slowly to rest her head against the vampire's shoulder. “I only wanted to save people that were in danger because I started all of this.” Her voice was low but steady. “I never meant to make you hate me. I never meant for any of this to happen.” She tipped her chin up, looking at Carmilla's profile in the yellow lamplight that was all they had underground. “I really missed you,” she confessed, relieved by the feeling of Carmilla's arm slipping behind her, pulling her that much closer.

“I missed you too.” Fingers trailed through her hair, sending a tremble down her spine.

“I'm glad you didn't become an avatar of pain and death,” Laura continued, made more confident by the soft gestures of affection from her ex-girlfriend.

Carmilla's voice was smug. “Who said I didn't?” Laura's fingers swatted her middle. Carmilla caught her hand, holding it against her shirt. Beneath the fabric her skin was warm, nearly human.

Laura didn't move away. “I do,” she hummed, picking at a crease in the shirt. “I know you.” Her eyes dropped in favor of nuzzling into Carmilla's neck. “I'm sorry for pushing you, for making you feel like I needed you to change. You're enough.” Her hand flattened against the vampire's breathless abdomen. “Just like this.” Carmilla leaned over slowly, pressing her lips against soft hair. “Just this.”

“Laura...”

“You and me. That's what I need. Or just you – in the world and alive – if you can't -”

Carmilla's hand under her jaw guided her head up to meet her kiss, mouth gentle. Laura answered with passion and depth, sitting up to get closer. Her fingers twisted in the cloth of Carmilla's shirt, holding her tight and close. Needing her that much nearer, that much tighter against her.

“Wait,” she gasped into Carmilla's mouth, tearing away from her kiss. The vampire's growl was animal, possession and need, and it thrilled something deep in Laura's gut. “Just one -” she was stopped with another plundering kiss. Her tongue traced Carmilla's fangs before she pulled herself away again. “I need us to talk like this,” she panted, breathless and burning. If Carmilla's hands left her she would burst. Simply shatter and explode into aching pieces. Where they touched her she burned. Her vampire's head pulled back as her words sank through the passion of reunion. “I – the whole time you hated me, it was killing me, and the only person I wanted to talk to about it was you.” She pulled a ragged breath into her chest, wanted Carmilla to suck it out again. “I can't lose that.” Her mouth curled in a smile. “And honestly, we've been kind of crap at communicating.”

Hands slipped up Laura's back, guiding her in again. Carmilla let their foreheads touch gently. Her whole world was filled with the amber gold of Laura's eyes. “We'll talk,” she promised, nodding.

“I'm sorry I didn't let us be happy when we had a chance to be,” Laura continued, breathless but needing to be sure that she made herself clear.

“Sweetheart -” Carmilla leaned in to catch her mouth, stop her words. “Listen to me.” Another kiss, deeper and more lingering than the last. “We will talk. I swear. But right now -” One hand caught the back of Laura's thigh, coaxing her leg across her own thighs, drawing her to straddle her lap.

Laura, for once, needed no more words, plunging her fingers into dark curls at the back of Carmilla's neck still damp from the shower.


End file.
